In His Eyes
by I Fancy Hugh Dancy
Summary: A woman is determined to avenge her father's murder. When the boundaries of good and evil become blurred, will that of love and hate follow suit? Rating will go up in later chapters.
1. Karma

** IN HIS EYES **

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_**"In Her Eyes"**_

_**By: Josh Groban**_  
_  
She stares through my shadow  
She sees something more  
Believes there's a light in me  
She is sure  
And her truth makes me stronger  
Does she realize  
I awake every morning  
With her strength by my side_

_I am not a hero  
I am not an angel  
I am just a man  
Man who's trying to love her  
Unlike any other  
In her eyes I am_

_This world keeps on spinning  
Only she steals my heart  
She's my inspiration  
She's my northern star  
I don't count my possession  
All I call mine  
I will give her completely  
To the end of all time_

_I am not a hero  
I am not an angel  
I am just a man  
Man who's trying to love her  
Unlike any other  
In her eyes I am_

_In her eyes I see the sky and all I'll ever need  
In her eyes time passes by and she is with me_

_I am not a hero  
I am not an angel  
I am just a man  
Man who's trying to love her  
Unlike any other  
In her eyes I am  
In her eyes I am_

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**Written by:** Lourdes, a.k.a. **I Fancy Hugh Dancy**

**Rating: **T – MA for violence, language and adult situations.

**Genre:** Romance/Drama/Crime/Action

**Summary: **Fifteen years after her father's brutal murder, a woman is out to avenge his death. When the boundaries of good and evil are blurred, will that of love and hate follow suit?

**Disclaimer: **This story is pure fanfiction. People, places and names have been altered to fit the plot. I do not own the Saints or any of the recognizable characters from the film. I own Lita and the various other stock characters that appear in the story.

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! This is my gazillionth Boondock Saints fic. Yes, I'm quite productive in this fandom. **This one I'm just writing for fun, so don't kill me if it sucks! **I just needed to let loose and not care about how good my writing is for once. Hope you like it:)

Other BDS fics I've written:

- "**Diapers, Pacifiers and Milk, Oh My!**": Oneshot featuring Murphy and mini-Murphy.

- "**Even In Heaven**": Murphy/OC, completed fic.

- "**Even In Heaven II: Saints' Scourge**": Murphy/OC, in progress.

- "**Path To Sainthood**": Connor/OC, completed fic.

- "**Path To Sainthood II: Into Your Arms**": Connor/OC, in progress

- "**Into the Dark**": Murphy/OC, extended Oneshot / on hiatus forever.

- "**Till Death Do Us Part**": Oneshot. Literally.

I would love to hear from anyone and everyone. Any comments, questions, corrections, constructive criticism, suggestions and encouragement are welcome and appreciated! xx IFHD

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**Chapter 1: Karma**

_**Flashback, 15 years ago**_

_"Daddy? Daddy, what's happening?" Lita could feel the ruthless thumping of her heart, the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. Wide-eyed in simultaneous fear and panic, her gaze then drifted through the tinted glass towards the lone, shadowy figure in front of them. Through the dim headlights, she could make out the silhouette of a tall man, his head coolly bent downwards and arms loosely clasped behind his back._

_He was waiting._

_Lita's father clenched his jaw in anger, though placed a comforting hand upon her head. "Stay in the car, sweetheart. I'll be back soon." Her panic was only heightened when her father made a move to open the door. Disregarding her pleas, Ernie Ville-amour nonchalantly stepped out onto the sidewalk, cheerfully greeting with open arms, "Well, MacManus, we meet again." And with that, he shoved the door closed, locking Lita inside._

_The next few moments would traumatize Lita for the rest of her life._

_Without so much as a flinch, the cloaked figure stiffly raised his arms, simultaneously firing the two pistols that he clutched in his hands. To Lita's utter horror, bullets continually punctured her father's chest, his lifeless, blood-covered body falling upon the gritty pavement in a matter of seconds. With shouts and wails of agony, she kicked the driver's seat open, consequences be damned. Lita crouched beside the lifeless corpse, delicately holding her father's head upon her lap. Through blurred eyes, she caught a glimpse of the male figure stepping back into the darkness, just as he had come._

_MacManus…_

_**End Flashback**_

Whistling a merry Irish tune, Murphy MacManus casually strolled through the dimly-lit hallway towards his apartment. Cigarette loosely tucked in between his thin lips, he felt the pockets of his pea coat for any sign of his keys. Furrowing his brows at the sight of the slightly-opened door, he cautiously pushed the door wide open, peeking into the main room of the apartment for any sign of his brother. Ensuing to flick the light on, he surveyed the mess that was their apartment, finding that everything was just as he had left it. Feeling that nothing was amiss, he scoffed to himself.

_Connor, that rat fuck! Trying to play another prank on me, huh?_

It was then that he felt something press upon the back of his head. From past experience, it was _definitely_ the barrel of a gun. As the distinct click of a lock supported his educated guess, he merely smirked and rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Connor, but this shit won't work with me again. Ye may have gotten me ta scream like a lil' bitch last time, but I've learned me lesson, ye fuck."

"Move an inch without my saying so, Lucky Charms, and I'll blow your fucking brains out."

Murphy's back immediately tensed at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. _That wasn't fuckin' Connor! Connor. Where the fuck was Connor?_

When Murphy made a move to twist his head in order to face the female speaker, she repeatedly clucked her tongue in warning and pressed the barrel of the gun even harder upon his head. "Uh-uh-uh, not an _inch_, motherfucker! That is, unless you want to be sent to your maker, in which case I'd be _more_ than happy to oblige you."

Holding out his hands to his sides in silent surrender, Murphy snarled through clenched teeth, "The fuck do ye want?"

In response, the woman violently shoved the gun upon the back of Murphy's head, sending him flying forward. "Move!" Prodding him to walk, she pushed at his shoulderblades while keeping the gun firmly pressed upon the side of his neck. Kicking at the back of his knees as they reached the dilapidated couch, she sternly ordered, "Sit the fuck down."

Murphy didn't say a word and obediently did as he was told. Finally able to look up at his surprisingly unmasked "captor", as it were, he was taken aback to find her quite…_striking_. Her long, flowing back hair reached her waist, so neat it seemed as though she had just combed it. She stood only a few inches shorter than he, he reckoned, her back straight and proper with a perfect posture. Her delicate, tanned skin betrayed her young age, and Murphy hypothesized that she was only slightly younger than he. But it was her eyes – her dark, brown eyes – that called for Murphy's attention even in this less-than-pleasant situation. So much anger, so much _hate_ emanated from within them that now he genuinely wondered what her motives were. "Well, are ye gonna fuckin' shoot me or are ye just gonna stand there all night and point the fuckin' gun at my face?"

The woman snarled at the confidence that Murphy exhibited, encouraging her to point the gun even closer to his face. "Before I blast your fucking brains out, Paddy, tell me where your father is."

Murphy furrowed his brows in utter confusion and narrowed his eyes in response. "The fuck ye talkin' 'bout?"

She simply declared, "Your father killed mine, and now I'm going to kill yours." Seeing the bewildered look that plastered itself upon Murphy's countenance, she let out a short laugh with a shake of her head. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

With a cool tilt of his head, Murphy replied in a mere whisper, "Ye can say that."

In a lightning move, Murphy snatched the woman's outstretched wrist, twisting it to the side. Accidentally pulling the trigger, she sent a bullet flying through the ceiling, which ensued to send slabs of concrete crashing towards the floor around them. Crying out at the pain that Murphy inflicted on her arm, she tried to repeatedly kick at him in retaliation. Murphy expertly defended himself, merely twisting her arm even more to the point of almost breaking it. Growling through the struggle, Murphy pushed her upon the couch, pinning her there. Straddling her, he commented mockingly as he pulled her hair back, "Well, _I_ certainly like this position. Don't ye?"

Even _more_ inflamed by his comment, the woman utilized all her strength to push the MacManus off her form. Swiftly turning and punching his solar plexus, she managed to render him immobile for a few seconds, giving her just enough time to find her gun lying under a table. "Fuckin' Mick prick!" She cried in rage, diving for the weapon. "I'm going to fucking kill you _and _your brother!"

Just when she reached the handle of the gun, Murphy crushed her hand with the heel of his boot, causing her to cry out in utter pain. Catching his breath, he snarled through tight lips, "First o' all, we don't tolerate alliteration in this apartment," then, rudely pulling her upwards by the hair, he ensued to roughly pin her back upon the wall, "Second o' all, ye'll _never_ kill me or anyone o' me family members. I can assure ye that."

The rage in her eyes suddenly transformed into an expression of great calm. With a sly smirk, she leaned conspiratorially into Murphy's ear and whispered, "We'll see about that, Murphy MacManus."

Murphy didn't even heed what she had stated and wasn't even bothered by the fact that she knew his true name. Instead, looking up at the battered ceiling, he thought to converse with God Almighty himself. With a sigh, he muttered, "I hope ye'll forgive me fer doin' this."

And with that, he swiftly elbowed the woman upon the side of the head, rendering her fully unconscious.

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**A/N: Well, THAT was certainly fun for me to write! How'd you all like that? Want me to continue this fic? **

**Happy St. Patty's Weekend, by the way! I'm drunk as I type this. HAHA! xx IFHD**


	2. Evil Angel

**A/N: Wow, I'd have to say I'm quite impressed with the reception of this story. I'm glad you all are enjoying it so far, though! Who would've thought that the easiest story to write out of all of my BDS fics would be the most popular? haha I will definitely give you more. Thank you for reading and to those who are supporting this story: Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, IrishSaints, dragonzfire718, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, BloodStainedRosePettles, Aramoorn and hatedlane2000. Enjoy this next one. xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 2**: **Evil Angel**

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_**"Evil Angel"**_

_**By: Breaking Benjamin**_

_Hold it together, birds of a feather,  
Nothing but lies and crooked wings.  
I have the answer, spreading the cancer,  
You are the faith inside me._

_No, don't  
Leave me to die here,  
Help me survive here.  
Alone, don't remember, remember._

_Put me to sleep evil angel.  
Open your wings evil angel._

_I'm a believer,  
Nothing could be worse,  
All these imaginary friends.  
Hiding betrayal,  
Driving the nail,  
Hoping to find a savior._

_No, don't  
Leave me to die here,  
Help me survive here.  
Alone, don't  
Surrender, surrender._

_Fly over me evil angel.  
Why can't I breathe evil angel?_

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After a long night of debauchery and God knows what else, Connor casually strolled into the apartment an hour after his brother, tanked to the bone. Upon entrance, he instantly saw through blurred eyes that there was an unfamiliar woman tied upon a chair – not to mention with _his_ rope, for Christ's-fuckin'-sake – not too far from Murphy's bedroom. With her head bowed, he deduced that she was fast asleep. Grinding his teeth in dishumour as he caught a glimpse of his brother retying a knot behind her, Connor muttered, "I knew ye were inta kinky sex, Murph, but really, keep that shite behind the closed doors o' yer bedroom, will ye? Jaysus fuckin' Christ!" He then paused as he removed his pea coat, observing the sleeping figure in front of him. "Well, at least this one's _much_ prettier than the last one ye brought home. Yer taste in women seems ta be getting' better, Murph. I'm proud!"

Murphy's head snapped up to meet his twin's mirthful gaze as he stood upright. Wholly unamused by his brother's blabbering, he curtly stated, "She tried ta kill me."

"Ouch." Connor winced, plopping down upon the dirtied couch. "Ye were _that_ bad, huh?"

Murphy irritably massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. As he began to pace to and fro in front of the woman's sitting form, he snapped, "Connor, can ye _please_ just be fuckin' serious for one fuckin' second?"

"How can I be fuckin' serious when ye used _my _fuckin' rope fer another sexcapade o' yers?" Connor mockingly drilled his finger upon his heart to emphasize his point. "_My_ rope, Murph. _My. Fuckin'. Rope!_"

Losing what was left of his minute patience, Murphy threw a nearby packet of smokes at his annoying brother. Hitting Connor square on the forehead, the cigarettes tumbled towards Connor's open palm. Looking down at his hand and widely grinning at this convenient coincidence, Connor mused, moreso to himself than to his brother, "Wow. It's like ye can read me mind or somethin'."

In utter rage, Murphy kicked a chair beside him, causing it to loudly crash upon the cracked, tiled floor. He boomed in unbridled upset, "Will ye fuckin' _listen_ ta me for a fuckin' second?"

At all this commotion, Lita found herself wide awake. Head snapping up at the sound of raised voices, her eyes darted around her as she tried to overcome her disorientation. Head spinning and heart throbbing, her vision slowly cleared, and the doubled figures that she was seeing in front of her eventually became one. The incessant pounding of her head made her grit her teeth, the taste of dried blood fresh upon her tongue.

_I shouldn't have gone alone. Why the fuck did I go alone?_

_They'll come for me. I know it. They'll know that I'm gone, and they'll come_.

Suddenly remembering what had transpired and finding that she was indeed tied tightly upon a chair, she instantly became enraged and tried to break free. At the sight of her attempting to leap from the chair, Connor jerked back upon his seat with a surprised cry. Pointing at Lita's shaking form, he commented, wide-eyed, "Feisty one, she is. I reckon she liked it rough?"

Murphy's fiery gaze transferred from his brother to the woman behind him. Narrowing his eyes as his stare met hers, he said through tight lips, "Good mornin', sunshine. Did ye sleep well?"

Obliging his mockery, Lita replied with a sweet smile, "Morning, Shilaeli Hugger." Seeing Murphy snarl at this, she barked, "Now get your Leprechaun ass over here and untie me!"

Now standing beside his brother, Connor incessantly poked at Murphy's arm. "Oi, Murph, I don't think she wants ta play wid ye anymore!"

Disregarding his brother's comment, Murphy sternly stated, "I'm not lettin' ye go 'till I get some answers outta ye." Casually strolling to Lita's side, Murphy slightly bent over, now face to face with her. "And if ye don't talk, well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "ye know what I'll do ta ye."

She snorted unabashedly, calling his bluff. "What are you gonna do, deafen me to death with your pipe playing? Or are you gonna tapdance me to death?"

Pointing a stern finger upon her nose, Murphy lost enough of his composure to snap, "Ye know, ye really gotta stop with the Irish jokes. It's gettin' really old."

"Where's your sense of humour, Pogue?" Lita batted her eyelashes for effect as she threw him a mocking frown, "Ate a bad potato this morning?"

In the background, Connor piped in thoughtfully, "Ye know, if ye tapdanced on someone hard enough, I reckon it'll be enough ta kill 'em." He nudged Murphy. "Don't ye think so?"

Sternly slapping the back of his brother's head, Murphy cried in frustration, "Don't fuckin' encourage 'er!"

Lita only observed the MacManus twins bickering in front of her. Of all the years of research she had done about the Saints and the watchful eye that she and her accomplices had kept upon them, the way that they spewed shouts and curses at one another was something she had not seen coming. She found it _humanizing_, rather, to see these dreaded Saints of South Boston bicker much like she and her brother. But no, she quickly reminded herself - they were not humans, but _monsters_. They were the sons of a cowardly murderer, the one who claimed her father's life as though it had belonged to him: Il Duce.

With their slurring, hissed voices, and wild accents, Lita could barely understand what transpired between them. Though, after a few minutes, she saw that Connor irritably turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. With a heavy sigh, Murphy turned his attention back to her, jaw clenched and eyes hard. Stalking towards her once more, Murphy stood only a few inches from her form, observing her as though contemplating about what to do with her.

Realizing that threats wouldn't be conducive to her being untied, Lita then resorted to another thing that she knew how to do very well: seduction. Slightly parting her lips and inclining her head, her eyes bore into Murphy's sapphire orbs, appearing as though she desired to devour him. Tilting her head to the side as she licked her lips, she said in quite possibly the sweetest voice that Murphy has ever heard, "C'mon, Murphy. Untie me. I promise I'll make it worth your while." With her eyes freely trailing up and down his form, she took every inch of the MacManus in her gaze as she continued, "I don't have to kill you, you know. I didn't come here for you anyway." Seeing that she had managed to fully attain the MacManus' attention, she smirked and teasingly parted her legs. "Come here."

Murphy swallowed, standing stalk still in front of her. Not allowing his expression to betray his true thoughts, he smirked in return, eyeing Lita from top to bottom. "Very kind offer, miss." He then removed his pea coat, tossing it to the side, "Let's just hope your bite isn't worse than your bark."

Lita pursed her lips as she shook her head, feigning innocence. "I don't bite." Licking her bottom lip, she added, "…That is, unless you want me to?"

Murphy then took a few steps forward and stood behind her. As he slowly fell to his knees, he allowed the backs of his fingers to trail the side of her face and graze down at the exposed flesh of her neck. _Gullible Mick_, she thought, scoffing inwardly. Letting out a forced moan of pleasure, Lita surveyed her surroundings during what she believed was his momentary distraction. A sole gun lay upon the kitchen table: it was her salvation. Feeling the warmth of Murphy's breath as he brought his face closer to her right cheek, Lita actually felt a shiver of pleasure run down her annoyed by this, she forced herself to go about her business of seduction and escape, thinking that she had made much progress in so little time.

…That was, until she felt the bonds of the rope becoming _tighter_ around her wrists.

"Ye really take me for a dumb fuck?" Murphy whispered hoarsely upon the side of her ear, lips grazing her cheek. "Don't even think for a fuckin' _second_ that I didn't know what ye were plannin' ta do. I could see ye loosenin' the ties o' the ropes _miles_ away."

_Fuck._ Lita gritted her teeth, wholly annoyed that he had foreseen her plan._ Fuck!_

Just as Murphy finished re-tying Lita and stood once more, the front door widely opened with a light bang. Claiming both of their attentions, the figure stepped inside in large strides, throwing his belongings aside. At his sight, Lita felt horror and rage course through her veins as the flashbacks of traumatic memories coursed through her mind.

_It was him. _

The years of preparation, training, and building of sheer hatred for this one man suddenly came to surface all at once, engulfing her every being. With a cry, Lita pulled her arms apart, wrists becoming blue as she attempted to break free with all of her might. As she rocked to and fro upon the chair as though possessed, the wide-eyed Murphy wrapped an arm around her neck, trying to keep her steady. With violent tears streaming down her eyes in steady rivulets, she shrieked at the top of her lungs, "Murderer!" She continuously resisted Murphy's attempts to hold her still, feeling her heart constricting with pure hatred. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you Saint prick!"

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**A/N: Hope you all liked that and that you've all fully recovered from St. Patty's Day! xx IFHD**


	3. Leverage

**A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter: BelhavenOnTap, dragonzfire718, CrimsonKissMJ, Jade Opal, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, Skylinebabe and IrishSaints. Sorry about the slow updates - it's crunch time right now, but I am trying to update asap and not post complete shite at the same time! I also apologize for the (hopefully) temporary writer's block with "Even In Heaven II: Saints' Scourge" and "Path To Sainthood II: Into Your Arms". Hope you enjoy this next installment. xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 3: Leverage**

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"_**Forfeit"**_

_**By: Chevelle**_

_Will not be shaken,  
And jump into this,  
And be persuasive, just carry on.  
Make my mind up, to go though this,  
Or be firm and sit in silence._

_'Cause I want to fight,  
I want to fight,  
I want to prove I'm right.  
I want to fight,  
I want to fight,  
So turn and forfeit._

_Forfeit._

_Learn from this,  
Prehistoric dance and  
Refrain from talking,  
Solves our problems._

_Medicated, could do some good,  
Or find a way to relate,  
Or just shut up._

_So step up.  
So step up.  
And forfeit.  
So step up._

_Forfeit._

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Il Duce repeatedly blinked in simultaneous surprise and confusion as he surveyed the irate woman screaming numerous, often incomprehensible, threats in front of him. Even though he was wholly bewildered by her sight, he couldn't help but be slightly entertained by the type of language that continuously spewed from her mouth; it reminded him too much of his wife, really – while drunk _and_ sober! Setting aside his duffel bag, he managed to stifle an amused smirk as he turned his gaze to his vexed son. "I dunna think she likes me very much, Murph."

Lita only found herself even _more _enraged by the nonchalant, even dismissive, gait that Il Duce exhibited in her presence. Frustrated that her escape from bondage seemed to be proving futile, she then resorted to attempting to headbutt Murphy, wildly shaking her head and pressing her legs upon the ground. In this struggle, Lita finally managed to tip the wobbling chair, sending both her and Murphy crashing upon the ground with a violent thud.

Finding that her exhibition of semi-lunacy gnawed at his collected composure, Murphy snarled, hands still somewhat wrapped around her, "Fuckin' shit! Oi, would ye shut it and stop movin'?" Managing to fully wrap his arms around her jerking form once more, he barked, "Don't make me fuckin' knock ye out again, because God ain't gonna forgive me a second time!"

"No, no, son." Da MacManus held up a hand, casually strolling to Lita's side and showing no signs of feeling threatened whatsoever. "Let the lil lady scream what she pleases." Slightly bending over to get a clear look of her hair-covered face, he declared more to her than to Murphy, "I want ta know what all the fuss is about."

Ironically, it was at this point that Lita halted her shouting, screaming, and struggling. With only her heavy breaths audible in the room, she merely stared daggers at Il Duce through narrowed eyes, meeting his stern gaze with equal measure. She said not a word throughout this battle of wills, orbs afire and teeth gritted into a menacing snarl.

Il Duce took a step back when he realized what he found in her eyes: pure hatred. Though, he was not taken aback only by this, but also by the fact that somewhere, buried deep in his memory, he saw visions of a little girl that stared at him with the same, intense hatred in her once innocent eyes. Those blazing, dark brown eyes haunted him for years afterwards, made him feel something that he had rarely felt throughout his Sainthood: remorse. And now, those same eyes seemed to look back at him; they were so distinct, so familiar…

"She says that ye killed her father."

At his son's declaration, it all suddenly clicked within Il Duce's head. With the way that that little girl had stared at him as he disappeared into the darkness, he knew that _some_ form of retribution would greet him at his front steps for what he had done. Albeit he didn't expect that that would happen quite literally, a part of him was not surprised that this woman was intent on delivering him to his maker. He found himself collected and composed as he spoke, "Lita Ville-amour." Lita's and Murphy's eyes both grew wide with the familiarity with which he spoke with her. Disregarding their reactions, Da continued lightly, "I must say, I was somewhat expecting ye to show up sooner or later, crying for me blood an' all tha'. Although I never would've thought that ye'd come alone ta an' do the job yerself."

Murphy furrowed his brows in confusion, head inclining to meet his father's stare as he finally released Lita. "Da, the fuck ye talkin' 'bout?" Slowly standing, his orbs then began to study Lita, who remained still, seething, upon the ground.

Placing a hand on his son's shoulder, Da MacManus calmly continued, "Yer family's been screamin' fer the heads o' the Saints fer years – especially me own. Am I right ta assume that yer brother's behind all o' this assassinatin' business?"

No reply.

"Seems like the lil' lady has suddenly lost 'er sharp tongue." Da's eyes clouded with an inscrutable expression as he pried his eyes away from Lita's form. Turning his back on both her and his son, he instructed in a low tone, "Tie 'er up elsewhere. We're keeping 'er 'ere 'till I decide what ta do wid 'er." He slightly twisted his head to face his son. "Then, get yer brother. We need ta have a lil' talk."

Having no time to protest his father's wishes as the senior MacManus exited the room, Murphy obediently did as he was told without a word. With a heavy sigh, he quickly untied Lita, though was always cautious of her attempting to escape. Instantly taking her arm in a vice-grip as the rope loosened around her wrists, he jerked her upwards to her two feet, wholly surprised that she didn't struggle. With Murphy holding Connor's rope in one hand and tightly gripping Lita's upper left arm with the other, they stalked towards Murphy's adjacent bedroom in silence.

Just as Murphy was about to kick the door closed, Lita suddenly whirled around, catching him slightly off-guard. With a swing of her arm, she attempted to punch him square in the nose, but only managed to graze the tip of the MacManus' chin as he swiftly turned and evaded her flying fist. Instantly coiling an arm around her neck and the other around her arms and waist, Murphy pressed Lita's body upon his, their forms now fully touching, as he attempted to hold her still. With his lips upon the side of her neck, Murphy hissed through tight lips, "Don't make me hurt ye again, love, because I will if I have ta," he tightened his grip around her body, causing her to cry out in anger, "Make it easier fer the both o' us and don't fuckin' struggle."

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!" she barked, disregarding his threats as she incessantly writhed in his arms. "I'm gonna kill that motherfuckin' murderer!"

It was only then that Murphy realized that tears were mercilessly cascading down Lita's cheeks. Feeling the dampness of her face and neck as he whirled her around to face him, Murphy fought the pang of pity that he wrenched within his gut. With a gulp, he managed to snatch her wrists, speedily retying the rope around them. Not meeting her eyes, he shoved her towards the corner of his bedroom as he wrapped the other end of the rope around his hand.

When Lita made another move to kick at him, Murphy pushed her upon the bed and immediately straddled her. As she lay flat on her stomach, Murphy's strong legs pinned her own upon the soft mattress. He ignored the muffled protests that came from her mouth and ensued to tie her upon the bedpost. By squirming and kicking, Lita repeatedly attempted to escape, but she could not match the sheer strength that the MacManus twin emanated. In a matter of mere seconds, she found herself in the position of captivity once more.

As he heard her growl in rage, Murphy dismounted her and awkwardly stood from the bed, breathing heavily. Not knowing what possessed him to speak with her, he blurted anyway, "If me Da killed yers, then yer Da must've been an evil man." Lita's head snapped up at this statement, eyes ablaze in rage once more. With his hands outstretched to his sides, Murphy proclaimed, "If ye knew where we lived, then ye sure as hell know our philosophy. Think about it. We wouldn't kill an innocent man."

"You Irish fuck," Lita snarled, wildly pulling at the rope, "don't fuckin' assume that you know my father. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." She scoffed, a diabolic smile tugging at the side of her lips. "You're just a limp prick that does what he's told."

Throughout the twenty-eight years that he's been alive, this was probably the first time that Murphy MacManus actually _thought_ of violently hitting a woman. With the last ounce of self-control in his body, he stalked away from her lest he be prodded to harm her once more. Muttering almost inaudible words through clenched teeth, Murphy snatched a nearby handkerchief that he found upon his dresser and ensued to gag Lita. "There." He roughly tied the last knot, and then pushed himself away from her once more. "If _that_ doesn't shut ye up, I'mma just go get the duct tape ta finish the job."

Realizing that his shirt was bloodied and ripped from their struggles, Murphy felt another twinge of annoyance. "Ye ruined me favourite shirt," he muttered, ripping the garment from his body. He stood, half-naked, from the bed, showing no signs of embarrassment whatsoever before her. Dangling the shirt in front of Lita's face in order to emanate his point even further, he declared, "Ye owe me a new shirt, wench."

Murphy ignored the mumbled curse that fell from Lita's tied lips as he strolled towards the adjacent washroom. With her eyes automatically falling upon his form, Lita couldn't help but notice the taut muscles of his chest, his ripped abdomen, and the various tattoos that adorned his body. _Aequitas_. _The Virgin Mary_. _An Irish cross_. How can this Mick fuck be so religious when he _murders_ people for a living? How could he honestly _believe_ that he was doing some good in the world when he _knows_ that his own father kills innocent people, like her own father?

_My father was an innocent man_.

The squeak of the faucet tap caught Lita's attention, breaking her reverie. Her gaze was fixated upon the Irishman once more. Cupping the rushing water in his palms, Murphy heaved out a sigh before washing his face and neck. As the blood and dirt from their previous struggles washed down the drain, Murphy inconspicuously studied Lita from the mirror, seeing that her indecipherable brown eyes clung to his form. He raised his eyebrow in slight curiosity as he ran his wet fingers through his short, brown hair. "Like what ye see?" Smirking as he saw her hurriedly rip her gaze from his body, he quickly wet a towel then threw it in front of her. "Get yerself cleaned up."

Lita couldn't help but be drawn to Murphy's form as he walked in front of her. As he noisily rummaged through his closet, her eyes drifted to the defined muscles of his moving shoulder blades, the bulging arms that had wrapped around her body. His chiseled face bore innocence upon it and his narrowed eyes exhibited hints of child-like mirth; this wholly disturbed her, for this vision was not congruous to the bloodthirsty killer that she had pictured. Who was this man that stood before her?

_A villain. The son of the man who killed your father._

_He needs to die_.

Murphy tilted his head to look at Lita once more. Finding that his eyes met hers instantly, he kept her stare as he stalked over to her side. Gripping a new shirt in one hand, he lifted the untouched towel in front of her with the other. Staring at the towel, then back at Lita, Murphy cautiously reached out his hand and attempted to brush her dirtied face with the damp fabric. When she repeatedly refused his aid and shook her head from side to side upon contact, he became frustrated once again and dismissively threw the towel upon her lap. "Fine. Do it yer-fuckin'-self."

Connor's sudden cries and loud banging upon the door startled the both of them. Murphy stood just as the door flew wide open, revealing his stumbling twin. Connor repeatedly blinked, as though to correct his vision, as he studied the scene in front of him. With his thumb and index finger massaging his temples, he moaned, "Look, ye two _just_ had kinky sex an hour ago or somethin'. Don't tell me ye two are at it again!" Shaking his head in what seemed to be disappointment, Connor slurred, "Look, ye horny dick, Da wants ta have a talk wid us. So fer the love o' God, get yer shirt on, 'cause I'm sick and tired o' seein' ye naked. Thank ye."

Murphy threw Lita a side glance, then cleared his throat. "Ye stay 'ere and behave like a good lil' lass, an' ye won't get hurt again."

"Go fuck yourself." Lita snapped with a flippant gesture, though her voice was entirely muffled by the gag.

"Sorry. Didn't catch that." And with that, Murphy stepped outside into the hallway and joined his singing brother, locking the assassin-turned-captive in his room.

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**A/N: I hope you all liked that chapter! What do you think will happen next? Will Lita succeed in her mission? Till next time, my lovely readers! xx IFHD**


	4. Compassion

**A/N: Connor **_**does**_** need to get laid. (Anyone want to volunteer?) Granted, if you witnessed compromising situations like these, with people half-naked and tied to furniture and all that, wouldn't **_**you**_** think that your twin brother was having kinky sex as well? I know I would! HAHA!**

**Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter: Skylinebabe, Jade Opal, IrishSaints, BelhavenOnTap, dragonzfire718, bella89 and Red Flame. I appreciate all of your support with this one! Hope you all enjoy this next installment! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 4: Compassion**

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_**"If I Talk To God"**_

_**By: The Last Goodnight**_

_You're so fragile I know  
Some things we cannot control  
I am so selfish it shows  
I just can't let go  
Tell me three little lies  
Everything is alright  
It tears me all up inside_

_If I talk to God  
I don't know if He's listening  
When I speak out loud  
I don't know if He's home  
I'm talking to myself  
' Cause no one else is listening  
Stay another day  
And will it all go wrong?  
If I talk to God_

_I hate the words that I said  
They lay so still in my head  
I hope I never regret  
If I just let go  
Goodbye to time well spent  
I've got nothing to defend  
And is this really the end?_

_And you can feel me when you fall  
When your back's against the wall  
And you know this town we live up in  
Is the loneliest of all  
And you can feel me when you're down  
And when your world turns upside down  
I know this place we're living in  
Is the loneliest of all_

_I will be the colors in the rain  
When you're lying up and wide awake  
Hold on, hold on, I will for you  
I will be the truth inside your lies  
When you close your eyes at night  
I will, I will, hold on, for you_

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Lita could not sleep the entire night. Through the thin, battered walls of Murphy's room, she could hear the mumbled murmurs of the MacManuses as they most likely conversed about what to do with her and the situation that she had unceremoniously brought upon their shoulders. She knew that they wouldn't kill her - if they stayed true to their philosophy, they _couldn't_ kill her. She also didn't doubt that they all knew that if they _did_ release her, she would only gather her brother and their accomplices to find them and contentedly blow their fucking brains to smithereens. With the possibilities growing thin inside her head, Lita _did_ wonder what the fuck they'd do with her - what they _could_ to do her.

Cold, starving, and in pain, Lita curled towards the corner of the twin-sized bed, leaning her head uncomfortably upon the bedpost and pressing her chin upon her huddled knees. Disregarding the irritation of the rope around her wrists, she surveyed the bleak room around her, attempting to find any way of escape. _It won't be long now. They'll know what I've gone to do. They'll know where to find me_. Consumed with hatred of the Saints, she berated herself for not having pulled the trigger upon Murphy's head when she had the chance. She could've - should've - inflicted the same pain on Il Duce as he had inflicted upon her and finally felt the satisfaction of retribution for her father's death. Pain, suffering, hatred, and the want of vengeance: these were the things she endured in her life, and these were the only things that she knew.

The light click of the door's lock instantly caught her attention. Head snapping upwards at the almost inaudible sound, she clenched her jaw as she made out Murphy's silhouette cautiously entering the room. In the dim moonlight, she surveyed him strolling slowly towards her form, holding something in his hands. Instantly alert, Lita straightened her back, standing from the bed and defiantly holding her ground.

"Sit." Murphy curtly ordered through tight lips, nodding his head towards the bed. "I'm not here ta hurt ye." When Murphy saw that she continued to doubt him, he let out an exasperated exhale. Briskly walking towards her, he ensued to untie the gag from her mouth and toss the piece of fabric aside as though it was of no consequence. If he was concerned about her screaming, he definitely exhibited no signs of it upon his countenance. "Here." Sitting rigidly upon his bed, he placed the cup and bowl that he held upon the nightstand beside her. "Ye need ta eat."

Lita still refused to budge from her place. Keeping her jaw clenched and narrowing her eyes, she snarled through gritted teeth, "And you need to fuckin' let me go."

"I will if ye eat." Murphy pursed his lips as though in contemplation and then almost instantly shook his head. "Alright, I won't. But really, ye need ta eat."

"Stick that spoon up your ass, MacManus."

Murphy shrugged in nonchalant acceptance of this not-so-kind remark. "I really will if ye eat."

"Cut this fuckin' bullshit!" Lita violently hissed, moving forward as far as the rope would let her. Feeling even more frustrated as the rope held her back from Murphy's nearby form, she yelled, "Untie this fuckin' rope from my wrists _right now_, you fuckin' prick!"

Murphy merely ignored her. Standing with a sigh, he took the cup of water in his hand and took a sip from it. Then, generously extending the cup towards her, he raised his eyebrow in expectancy. "Thirsty?"

Fuck, was Lita ever thirsty. Distracted by the parched sensation in her mouth, she contemplatively eyed the cup that was teasingly held up in front of her. _Not poisoned, by the looks of it._ But she couldn't drink it. What the fuck was this? The MacManuses toying with her? Bitterly tilting her head away from the cup in a show of defiance, she kept her gaze fixated upon the blank wall beside her and impatiently waited for the MacManus to leave her be.

"Must ye be so fuckin' hard-headed?" With an indignant grumble, Murphy snatched her chin in between his fingers without warning. Before Lita could scream her million protests, he firmly placed the brim of the cup upon her dry mouth. Albeit not shoving it upon her face, Murphy held his arm steady and waited for her response. Finally, after a few seconds, Lita tilted her head back and allowed the refreshing liquid to wash down her throat. Murphy carefully tipped the cup, their stare never breaking as she drank. When Lita had had enough, she brusquely spun her head away. Tossing the cup aside, Murphy then reached out for the cooling bowl of soup. "If ye sit, it'll make me job a lot easier."

"Why the fuck are you spoon-feeding me?" Lita snapped in unbridled upset, attempting to kick at the nearby MacManus. _Now_ she had had enough of this 'merciful' bullshit. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! If you're gonna kill me, just get the fuck on with it al-fucking-ready, because you're _really_ starting to piss me off!"

"Alright, fuck it!" Murphy irritably dropped the spoon into the bowl, grinding his teeth in infuriation. Pointing a steady finger at her nose, he snarled, "If yer gonna be such a fuckin' bitch about everythin', I'm the fuck outta 'ere."

Lita couldn't believe that she was even _thinking _of complying with his request. Albeit disappointed with herself for giving in to the MacManus' prodding, she knew that she needed food in her system if she wanted energy to escape and kill these fuckers. So, just as Murphy opened the bedroom door once more through his noisy exit, she hissed in a low tone, "Wait a fuckin' minute, Mick." Disregarding the irritated glance that Murphy threw her, she barked with a beckon of her head, "Get your Irish ass over here and give me some fuckin' soup!"

With a scoff and shake of the head, Murphy turned around on his heel without a word. Grabbing the bowl from the nightstand once more, he and Lita simultaneously sat upon his bed, leaving a small space in between them. Holding the bowl underneath her chin, he delicately placed the spoon within her mouth. He repeated this motion several times, her harsh eyes refusing to meet his. Murphy found himself wholly disturbed by how _gentle_ he was treating her, how he actually felt _sympathy_ for what she had gone through. Whether he'd like to admit it to himself or not, he even felt a little _guilt_ for the death of her father, although he wasn't killed by his own smoking gun. In all his years of being a Saint, he had never, _ever_ had to deal with the vengeance of a loved one of the men that he or his family has killed; not to mention the vengeance of a woman who seemed to sincerely love her father and was deeply traumatized by his loss.

"The fuck are you staring at me for?"

Murphy repeatedly blinked at her curt question, realizing only after a few moments that he really _had_ been staring at her. He had no idea why, but this woman piqued his curiosity, tugged him along to wonder how she had become the way she was. In fact, he desired to know _who_ she really was. She didn't strike him as a woman with a completely evil heart; in his eyes, she was only a woman who desired to rectify a painful situation with an iron fist, to execute the proverb 'an eye for an eye' all by her lonesome. With his eyes memorizing her face and even trailing down her form in the dim moonlight, Murphy even wondered how she would look if she would just…_smile_; a genuine, happy smile, one where she was free of worries, hatred, and pain. "I just want to know the face of the woman who's threatening to kill me and me family," he calmly replied a few moments later, expression undecipherable.

"In that case," Lita slowly leaned forward almost seductively, slick lips grazing the side of Murphy's ear, "know this face well, Mick, because it'll be the last thing you'll see on this earth."

Murphy's back tensed at this whispered declaration – this _promise_. As he abruptly stood with a snarl, the door to his bedroom slowly opened, revealing his father. As Lita's blazing eyes immediately connected with Il Duce's, the white-bearded Irishman tilted his head dismissively to his son, silently asking to be left alone with Lita. With a nod of understanding, Murphy took one last fleeting look at Lita's form before swiftly exiting the room.

As Murphy closed the door, Il Duce met Lita's enraged stare with equal measure and firmly questioned, "Do ye want ta know the truth about yer father?"

Lita let out an unabashed snort, turning her head away from the older MacManus. "And you presume to _know_ the truth about my father?" With a sardonic laugh, she spat, "You really know what I want? I want you to shoot yourself in the head, you Irish fuck!" She sweetly batted her eyelashes as a smirk tugged on the corners of her lips. "Are you able to comply with this request of mine? Because really, it would make my _life_."

"Well," Da crossed his arms in front of him as he smirked in kind, "I see ye've managed ta find yer sharp tongue again. Did me son manage ta get a rise outta ye?"

Disregarding the teasing of his tone, Lita's breaths became erratic as she felt an all-encompassing rage course through her body once more. "You'll pay for what you've done. I swear it. I'll kill your sons right in front of your eyes, just so you know how it feels to lose someone you love. Then, I'll be happy to reconcile you with them not long afterwards."

"Make these threats, empty or otherwise, all ye want, love, but it wilna change the truth." Calmly standing in front of her with his hands clasped behind him, Da began, "Yer father was no innocent man, Lita, as much as ye'd like ta believe it. 'e was the mafia don o' the Triads an' murdered people left an' right, 'aving no qualms 'bout doin' so. 'e killed _innocent_ men, women, an' even _children_, all ta keep 'is place at the top o' the litter." Da let out a sigh as he shook his head at the regrettable memory. "All these years, I wished that ye 'adn't been present the night I sent yer father ta his maker. Ye were only a lil' girl then, not tha' much younger than me own sons. But I _'ad_ ta do it tha' night, Lita. Yer father was plannin' ta kill a handful o' his underbosses an' their families, most likely after 'e 'ad taken ye 'ome…"

"You fucking liar!" Lita simultaneously screamed and wailed, tears violently escaping her eyes as she attempted once more to pull away from bondage. "Shut the fuck up! Why should I fucking believe you, you son of a bitch?"

"I 'ave no reason ta lie ta ye an' 'ave nothin' ta gain from disrespectin' yer father's memory. If I 'ad killed an innocent man, I would 'ave attempted ta atone fer that sin years ago." Da replied as-a-matter-of-factly, seemingly unaffected by her emotional reaction. "Wha' do ye think yer brother's been up ta all these years? 'ow the fuck was 'e able ta train ye, arm ye…_brainwash_ ye an' yer accomplices inta doing…_this_?" With an outstretched hand, he gestured to her form, alluding to her failed assassination attempt. "Believe it or not, 'e 'as taken the reigns o' the mob as the don o' the Triads, probably keepin' it all from ye fer the love o' ye. But know this, and know it well: yer father was no innocent man, an' neither is yer brother."

After years of searching for answers, of being kept in the dark by her family…has Il Duce finally shed some light on her past and her present? Was the information that easily fell from his lips _really_ the truth about her family?

"Ye've been lied ta from the very beginnin', Lita." Da now studied in her in what seemed to be pity, though her eyes remained downcast in her confusion. "Deep down inside ye, ye know it's the truth…"

_The locked room in her old home. Her brother's secrecy and mysterious disappearances throughout the years. The unexplained threats to her family…_

"…Why do ye think yer mother committed suicide?"

_Dear God, could it be true? Jesus fuckin' Christ, could Il Duce be telling the truth?_

"Fuck you!" Lita was hysterical by this point, violently pulling at the rope with all of her might. In a screaming wail, she ordered, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Da MacManus could only watch and listen as her wracking sobs repeatedly pierced the cloak of tension around them. _She knows now_. _Now, all she needs is to accept it_. With heart-wrenching wails being released from her throat, Lita buried her face upon the bruised palm of her hands, all the more consumed by confusion, hatred, and pain. As Lita felt the world closing in around her, trapping her in a suffocating choke-hold, Da silently turned on his heel and walked purposely through the door threshold, leaving her alone in the cold, dark room.

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**A/N: And the plot thickens! What did you all think of that? And what do you think will happen next? xx IFHD**


	5. Confusion

**A/N: I'm SO happy with the reviews! (Judging by them, Connor won't have a hard time finding someone to copulate with. HAHA!) Glad you're all enjoying this story. Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter: BelhavenOnTap, IrishSaints, bella89, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, dragonzfire718, Aramoorn, Veritas rose, Jade Opal and WWESupernatural102292. The following chapter is a favourite of mine. Hope you all enjoy it! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 5: Confusion**

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"_**Kissing You"**_

_**By: Des'ree**_

_Pride can stand a thousand trials,  
the strong will never fall  
But watching stars without you,  
my soul cried.  
Heaving heart is full of pain,  
Oh, oh, the aching.  
'Cause I'm kissing you, oh.  
I'm kissing you, oh.  
Touch me deep, pure and true,  
gift to me forever  
'Cause I'm kissing you, oh.  
I'm kissing you, oh.  
Where are you now?  
Where are you now?  
'Cause I'm kissing you.  
I'm kissing you, oh._

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Lita had no idea how long she had been crying for. She was so utterly confused with grief; this time, it was not for the death of her father, but for the exposition of the lie that she had been unknowingly living throughout all of these years. As her world was flipped upside down by revelations that she could not help but believe, her purpose at the MacManus household had lost all meaning, much like the affection that she harboured for her brother and deceased father. Hearing nothing but her own sobs and erratic breathing for hours upon end, she hugged her legs tightly to her chest and buried her face upon her knees. Lita attempted to find some form of comfort and consolation in her own arms; but in the end, she found none.

_She needed to get out of here. She needed to get away._

Pushing herself from the bed with renewed conviction, Lita frantically stood on her wobbling legs. A sudden rush of adrenaline possessed her. Lita's eyes wildly darted around the room as she desperately attempted to find _anything_ that would allow her to escape her binds. Quietly rummaging through the nearby nightstand, the broken assassin utilized all her limbs in order to find something, anything, that was relatively sharp.

Not long after she had begun her search, she felt something pressing underneath her shoe. Bending down in order to curiously look under the bed, her spirits rightly soared as she spotted a Rambo-like knife amidst empty packets of smokes and abandoned beer bottles. Greedily snatching it in her right hand, she began to expertly cut through her binds, the rope progressively becoming untwisted with every careful slice. In less than five minutes, she found herself completely free and began to rub her irritated wrists. Menacingly tossing the cut rope aside, she stood with her back straight and her hand firmly clutching the knife.

_Now, for her escape_.

With dim moonlight guiding her, she cautiously tiptoed her way towards the entrance of the room. Delicately pressing her ear upon the closed bedroom door, she waited a few, tense moments for any sign of the MacManuses. When she was convinced that she heard none, she slowly turned the knob, eyes and ears simultaneously alert. Hearing complete silence, she slowly stepped into the hallway, with the knife readied beside her, and ensured to make as little noise as possible.

The sudden bang of a nearby door made her heart jump. Cursing inwardly, she stealthily crept into the shadows and pressed her back upon the corridor wall. Eyes darting towards the sound, Lita spotted a drowsy Connor only a few meters away from her form. Completely naked from head to toe, the Irishman sung an ill-pitched Irish tune underneath his breath as he waddled, with his back turned to her, towards the kitchen. "…And whack fol the dah O, dance to yer partner. Welt the floor, yer trotters shake," he gave his hip a little twist at this point, "Wasn't it the truth I told ya, lots o' fun at Finnegan's wake!" Bobbing his head up and down out of sync with the tune, Connor strolled to the refrigerator and continued about his business with a merry gait. _Is this Mick _still_ fuckin' drunk?_ Lita snorted to herself as she contemplated her course of action. Eyeing the ragged knife that she gripped in her right hand, she wondered if she would be able to deal with the sight of all that blood…

Lita's mind went completely blank when her darkened orbs made contact with Connor's form once more. The Irishman, who was coolly drinking a beer in the meantime, had slightly turned, exposing his most _intimate_ areas to her sight. Although his body was admittedly pleasing to look at, Lita noticed a blush creeping upon her cheeks and ultimately had to turn her gaze away. _Concentrate!_ She admonished herself, somewhat irked at this unexpected…_distraction_. Averting her gaze to his contented face, she anxiously watched as the blonde MacManus rapidly finished his drink, tossed the empty can into the bin, and casually shuffled back into his bedroom. Letting out a breath that she found she had been holding since her mini peep show, she then turned her full attention upon the door of the apartment a few meters before her.

Suddenly, a light footstep sounded behind her. Instinctively swirling around, Lita threateningly held the knife high in front of her. Finding herself face to face with the bewildered Murphy, she instantly pressed the weapon upon the side of his neck, taking a menacing step forward.

"Well, what are ye waitin' fer?" The dark-haired Irishman taunted with raised eyebrows, hands outstretched to his sides to emphasize his question. Doing his best to hide his sheer incredulity regarding her successful escape from bondage, Murphy merely inclined his head in a visible taunt, giving the blade more access to his neck. He hissed through gritted teeth, "Do it."

_Why the fuck am I hesitating?_

Why _was_ he hesitating? Hadn't she been ready to blow his fucking brains out at the beginning of the evening?

Clenching her jaw as she pressed the blade even more forcefully upon Murphy's neck, Lita caught a glimpse of a fine, single line of blood trickling down to his collarbone. Meanwhile, Murphy's visage exhibited no signs of pain whatsoever as he merely stood in front of her, back tense, jaw clenched. Gripping the sides of her arms as a result of her inactivity, Murphy roughly jerked her, causing the blade to cut even more deeply upon his smooth skin. "Do it!" he utterly boomed, even startling Lita. Roughly pinning her against the wall, the Irishman cried in unbridled upset, "I'm sick an' tired o' yer threats, alright? Just do what ye came 'ere fer an' send me ta me fuckin' maker, 'cause I'm _really_ gettin' impatient!"

Lita shook.

_Oh God, why was she shaking?_

"Yer father was a ruthless bastard, Lita." Murphy reaffirmed with conviction through tight lips, his face inching closer to hers. "_He _was the murderer. Can ye fuckin' see tha' now?"

"No!" She wailed, knuckles becoming white from gripping the knife so tightly. "It's not true!"

"It is." The MacManus took another step closer towards her, remaining unaffected by the blade cutting through his skin. Even amidst the threat of death, he calmly stated, "And ye know, deep down in yer heart, that it is."

They stood at a silent standstill for what seemed like an eternity. Then, with an almost inaudible gasp, Lita's grip abruptly loosened from the knife, sending the bloodied weapon tumbling towards the ground. It momentarily bounced with a clink and thud before resting peacefully beside their feet.

In a swift movement, Murphy's hand coiled around Lita's neck as he roughly shoved her upon the wall. Feeling the crimson liquid upon his neck with his free hand, Murphy eyed his blooded fingers with his clouded orbs before fixating his gaze upon the woman in front of him.

Instead of choking her to death, as what Lita believed he was about to do, Murphy suddenly gripped both of her bruised wrists and pinned them firmly above her head. He then ensued to press the length of his body upon hers, crushing her upon the wall. Lita could now feel him – _all_ of him – and the warmth and strength that emanated from his adamantine body. At that moment, she was too taken aback by this unexpected action to react. Without a word of warning, Murphy buried his lips upon hers, wildly, wantonly, kissing her. With a whimpered protest from her lips, Lita attempted to free herself from Murphy's loose hold. Shaking her wrists from his grasp, she forcefully shoved at his chest. Then, she dealt him a harsh slap, sending his face snapping to the side.

Murphy only blinked at the impact and made no move to nurse his stinging cheek. Instead, his stormy eyes connected with Lita's own once more as he firmly placed his hands upon her shoulders. Freezing at this next contact, Lita inclined her chin and gulped as Murphy's hands trailed upon her breasts and down to the side of her body in an excruciatingly slow manner, greedily feeling her waist before finally resting upon her curvy hips. Letting out a ragged breath as his calloused fingers crept underneath her shirt, Lita found herself slowly succumbing to his ministrations. Instead of dealing him another slap, Lita closed her eyes as pleasure began to course through her veins.

Murphy then kissed her with such urgency and passion that it took Lita's breath away. Slipping his slick tongue in between her parted lips, Murphy deepened the kiss as he pressed his body upon hers once more. With a moan, Lita began to reciprocate his lustful advances, kissing him with the same passion that he was exhibiting. Momentarily breaking the kiss, Murphy then trailed his lips down the side of her neck, tracing the exposed flesh that he found there. Her scent and taste electrified his senses, his actions become more uncontrollable as the minutes passed.

After his palms felt the curve of her rear, Murphy gripped the backs of her thighs as he lithely lifted her off the ground. Their lips locked once more and battled for dominance. They kissed one another in an erratic, lustful manner as Lita slowly wrapped her legs around Murphy's trim waist and her arms coiled around his smooth neck. Bucking her upwards, Murphy carried her from the wall and, with the backs of his shoulders, pushed the door to his bedroom open. After taking a few steps inside his room, he gently lowered Lita upon his bed, a hand supporting the back of her head while the other gripped her outer thigh. Hovering over her, Murphy reveled in the feeling of her writhing body underneath his, finding himself wholly aroused. As his hands began to roam underneath her shirt and cup around her breasts, Lita's hands suddenly shot outwards, gripping Murphy's wrists.

Murphy merely eyed her curiously with his glazed orbs as she sat upwards, pushing him from her form. "Stop," she simply said, hurriedly shifting away from him.

It was then that Murphy felt himself breaking from a trance. Running his fingers through his hair as he finally realized what he had done, he mumbled in a low tone, "Sorry."

Silent tears cascaded from Lita's blurred eyes as she rigidly stood from the bed. _What the fuck did she just do?_ _What the fuck was happening?_ Twisting her head to glance at the silent MacManus, she seemed to ask him those very questions with her eyes. To her, it was clear from his contorted expression that he, too, had no idea what had just transpired between them.

And Lita was right. After his father had informed him and Connor about Lita's past and the deeds of her family – especially her father – Murphy was disturbed to find himself confused and utterly torn with regards to how he felt towards her. It had all become crystal clear to him after a few hours of his father's revelations. She had been kept in the dark all of these years and had never been told the real reason for her father's death or her mother's suicide. Furthermore, it had been ingrained in her mind that Il Duce had brutally murdered her _innocent_ father, that it was _her_ father that was the saint.

Murphy reached out for her arm. "Come 'ere." Gingerly taking her shaking hand in his, he tenderly pulled her towards his body once more. The Saint was surprised that he wanted to give her _comfort_, regardless of what had previously passed between them. Fuck her threats and her sharp tongue – a lost, broken woman stood in front of him, and she needed consolation.

The vision of the man before her was blurred. Blinking away droplets of dears, Lita stood stalk still until she could clearly see the Saint before her. With slight hesitation, she sat beside Murphy upon the bed once more and enclosed the space between them. Then, burying her tear-filled face upon his broad chest, Lita openly sobbed, grasping the collar of his shirt as her tears quickly soaked through the thin fabric.

_She couldn't breathe. She felt as though she were dying._

Hooking his calloused finger underneath her chin, Murphy inclined her head so that she would meet his gaze. Brushing his cheek upon hers, he traced his fingers down her spine as he breathed out in a mere whisper, "Get some rest."

Lita couldn't help but comply without protest. Observing his actions, she remained quiet as Murphy reached out for the ends of the covers and pulled the fabric from underneath them. Taking his pause as a signal for her to lie down, she crept underneath the blanket without a word, relieved that warmth finally began to fill her. Attempting to make herself comfortable in a strange bed, Lita wrapped the thick covers even more tightly around her shivering body. _What was he going to do with her? Will he tie her up again or will he actually leave her to sleep in his own bed?_

Lita received her answer only a few seconds later. Feeling the bed shift as Murphy stood, her body tensed in anticipation of what he was about to do. Though, he made no move to gather any objects to tie her with. Instead, much to Lita's surprise and slight discomfort, Murphy daintily pulled the covers from her body and joined her underneath. Although he kept a decent amount of space in between them, Lita couldn't help but feel shivers run through her body. Those shivers only increased exponentially when she felt Murphy's hand gingerly trace the side of her waist before fully wrapping his arm around her warm body.

Delicately pressing his lips upon the back of her head, Murphy breathed in her flowery scent once more. Seemingly content in this position, he said not a word as he waited for Lita's response. When she visibly relaxed in his arms, he felt relief rush through his body. In a matter of minutes, as a result of sheer fatigue from their struggles, Lita's and Murphy's eyes fluttered closed as they both drifted off into sleep.

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**A/N: I must say, I just smile every time I read this chapter. Till next time, my lovely readers! xx IFHD**


	6. Disarray

**A/N: I'm so glad you all liked the previous chapter as much as I did! There will be more, I assure you. I'm working hard on the story as you read this! Thank you to alandava, Aramoorn, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, IrishSaints, Veritas rose, dragonzfire718, Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, Jade Opal, bella89 and kitkatbaby611 for reviewing last chapter. This next one's pretty fun. Hope you like it! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 6: Disarray**

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_**"Disarray"**_

_**By: Lifehouse**_

_I face my demons wrestling these angels to the ground  
And all that I could find _

_was a thin line between all the saints and villains _

_it was crossed in my own mind_

_Someday I'm gonna find it _

_wish I knew what I was looking for  
inside the disarray  
I woke up this morning don't know where I'm going but it's alright  
I wouldn't have it any other way_

_Struggling between the facts and fiction I'm alone  
But I'm alive  
Everyone around me is trying to make a statement  
Then there's me  
I'm just trying to survive_

_If this was any other day I'd pretend to know where I stand  
I just don't know_

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_**Flashback**_

_Lita felt a sudden jolt wrack her body as her eyes flew wide open. Staring at barren, slightly decrepit ceilings illuminated by dim moonlight, she tried to make sense of where she was as drowsiness still claimed her body. With the pressure of a form beside her own, she then felt the sensation of an arm tightening around her and a hand grazing down the side of her waist. Eyes fluttering upwards, it finally dawned on her that she was lying in bed with Murphy MacManus, safely tucked in between his strong, firm arms. Feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, she then realized that she had rested her head in between his chest and the crook of his neck the entire night, drawn to the warmth and comfort that he had so freely offered her._

_As she curiously inclined her head to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Saint, Murphy remained entirely unaware of her wakened form, still swimming in the land of the unconscious. With his light breath tickling the side of her cheek, Lita traced her fingers upon the taut muscles of his chest, feeling the heat that emanated from there even through the fabric of his shirt. She had been so confused with the colliding emotions within her that she had not even _thought_ of what had transpired between them just a few hours prior – what was transpiring within them at this very moment. Needless to say, the consequences of their actions had not yet crossed her mind until now. _

What the fuck was she doing in this man's bed? Why was she seeking comfort in the man that she had both inwardly and vocally vowed to kill numerous times in the first place?

This is totally, completely, _utterly_ fucked up.

_Lita suddenly remembered the compassion that he had shown towards her, the worry that he had exhibited after he had learned of her history even though she had repeatedly promised to send him and his family to their maker. This wasn't the monster that she had so convinced herself existed – at least, not from what he had shown her that evening. Even though Lita had trained for months for tonight's 'job', she had not accounted for the feelings that this man would stir within her with his mere presence, the sensation of lust that would pervade her so-called instincts when he touched – even _looked_ – at her. She couldn't, with all her might, even rip her gaze away from his body when he had paraded in front of her half-naked. Not even his twin's _fully-naked _form had elicited the same, warm feelings within her. She felt her defenses rise out of fear when he stared at her and had found herself completely lost with regards to how to respond to his kind advances. And now that she had complied with his request to comfort and console her, even if it were only for the time being, she became quickly addicted to it: the warmth and feel of a man's body; the sensation of strong arms holding her as though she were the most precious thing in the world; the burning lust that engulfed her body when he kissed and touched her. Murphy was showing her, as much as she denied it to herself and others for years, what she truly desired: the possibility of love. _

Love? What the fuck are you thinking, you fucking psycho? You must be outta your fucking mind! _She outwardly snorted, convincing herself that she was truly thinking complete bullshit._ You're fucking delusional and an emotional wreck. Kill the fucker, kill his family, then get the fuck outta there and get your ass home!

No,_ she fought with her conscience_, she couldn't kill him. Not now.

_What was she to do, then?_

_Engulfed by the convoluted emotions that Murphy stirred within her even whilst asleep, Lita slowly began to rise from the bed. Carefully lifting his arm and the blanket from her form, she sat upon the mattress, making as little noise and movement as possible. Successfully standing from the bed without waking him, Lita contemplatively stared down upon the Saint's form, gaze apparent with an emotion with which she was barely familiar: gratitude. As she stroked a strand of hair behind her ear, she placed a lingering kiss upon the side of his rosy cheeks, momentarily tracing his smooth skin with her bottom lip. Then, as stealthily as she had come, Lita turned on her heel, gathered her belongings, and bolted out of the MacManus apartment._

_**End Flashback**_

With a satisfied sigh, Murphy rolled to his right side, extending his arm in order to wrap it around Lita. He wasn't going to lie to himself – it wasn't unusual for him to have a woman in his bed. He considered himself luckier in this department than Connor, who, as of late, _obviously_ needed to get laid. Murphy has had many women, really, and never considered himself a lonely man. But what surprised him about Lita was that he actually wanted her to…_stay_ with him throughout the night and, if she didn't strangle him to death in the interim, even during the morning and afternoon. He thought himself crazy, really – she fucking threatened to _kill_ him and his family! And here his lustful mind was, thinking of her fiery eyes, her supple skin, the taste of her lips, the curve of her hips…

Murphy finally realized that his hands had fallen upon the flat, cold surface of his bed. _The fuck?_ Eyes fluttering open, his first thought was that she had somehow fallen off the bed – he was quite the tosser. But seeing and sensing no sign of her within his room, he instantly bolted upwards, panic rushing through his veins. Hurriedly pushing and kicking the blankets from his body, he raced towards his door, suddenly wide awake.

As he frantically opened it, he was startled to see his brother on the other side, poised to knock. With his bright blue eyes squinted and ablaze, the blonde MacManus immediately stared daggers at his twin, taking a menacing step forward towards him. "I'm gonna feckin' kill ye, ye bastard!"

Utterly confused by this, Murphy automatically shot out an arm and pressed his palm upon Connor's heaving chest, keeping him at bay. "Alright, that's death threats from two different people in two days. The fuck did I do _this_ time?"

"Well," Connor began in mock politeness, blinking repeatedly, "I just wanted ta run by ye what I found in the vicinity o' yer room this mornin'."

With a tilt of his head to the side, Murphy studied what his brother held up and irritably dangled in front of his face: a Rambo-like knife and various pieces of cut rope. With a confused shake of his head at this exhibition, Murphy scoffed, "Yea, so?"

"Ye _stole_ me knife _an'_ cut me rope inta wee lil' pieces, didn't ye?" Though this accusation, Connor incessantly poked at Murphy's chest as he purposely advanced further into the room. "Didn't ye?!"

Murphy curtly brushed off Connor's annoying finger as he stepped away from the irate Irishman. With squinted eyes, he snarled with dishumour, "I did no such fuckin' thing! An' would ye stop yer whinin' an' overreactin', ye dick? We've got bigger problems ta worry 'bout."

"Me _rope's_ been ruined!" Connor boomed in unbridled upset, irritably throwing both knife and pieces of rope upon the ground with a violent stomp. He reiterated, only much louder this time around, "Fuckin' _ruined!_"

"I'll fuckin' get ye new rope!"

"It's not the fuckin' same, alright?!"

"Jaysus Christ, Con, I fuckin' 'ate it when ye act like a five-year-old, ye know tha'? _Especially_ when it's 'bout yer fuckin' rope!" With a cry of frustration, Murphy dismissively brushed past his brother, searching down the hallway and within the living room for any sign of his father. Seeing Da casually reading a newspaper at the kitchen table, Murphy cautiously advanced, not knowing how he would react to the undesirable news. Clearing his throat in order to gain his father's attention, Murphy swallowed nervously as the senior MacManus' expectant eyes met his sapphire orbs. He mumbled in a low tone, "She's gone."

The subsequent expression that appeared upon the older MacManus' face was not one of anger, but of sheer bewilderment. Calmly placing the newspaper down upon the table, Da ensued to lightly cross his arms as he scrutinized his somewhat sheepish son. "What do ye _mean_ she's gone?"

Ruffling his already mussed hair, Murphy reiterated through tight lips, "I mean she ain't 'ere. She must've escaped sometime durin' the night."

"Escaped? Or left?" Da questioned suspiciously, wrinkled eyes narrowing as he now stood in front of Murphy. Animatedly wriggling his fingers, he continued in a mocking voice, "It just _tickles_ me 'ow, I'm assumin', ye were wid 'er in yer room the entire night an' she didna manage ta kill ye one way or another. Kind o' interestin', don't ye think?"

Murphy actually felt heat rise upon his now rosy cheeks due to the fact that his father had immediately found him out. He waved off the slightly embarrassing comment and stated, "Look, don't cha worry 'bout what 'appened last night between us, Da. The fact o' the matter is, she's gone, an' we need ta find 'er."

"Why is tha'?" Da raised a mocking brow, highly enjoying teasing his son. "So ye can continue yer kinky sex?"

Murphy's mouth slightly parted at this unforeseen accusation. Bewildered by his father's audacity and unexpected forwardness about _that_ subject matter, he cried incredulously, "'ave ye been speakin' ta Connor lately? Jaysus!" Shaking his head in almost a disapproving manner, the dark-haired MacManus twin plopped down exasperatedly on the couch. Feeling underneath his arse, he took hold of the remote control beneath and mindlessly switched on the television. "What do ye think's goin' through 'er 'ead, Da? Ye think she's gonna get her brother an' 'is men after us even after everythin' she's found out?"

"I dunno, son, ye were _much_ closer ta 'er than I was." The senior MacManus let out an unabashed snort, enjoying poking fun at his own son whilst casually sipping at his morning coffee. "Plus, she seems ta 'ave taken a wee likin' ta ye. If ye ask me _humble_ opinion, I'd 'ave placed me money on ye knowin' what the lil lady was thinkin'."

"Da!" With a look of distaste, Murphy then tried to ignore the sniggers that continuously spewed from his father's lips. He knew it'll be a long while until he hears the end of _this._ _Alright, fuck it. I'll let 'im 'ave 'is fun._ Eyes shifting from the droning news report to his stomping brother off to the right of the talking box, he saw that that the blonde MacManus was hastily placing on his pea coat and rummaging through the key holder for his car keys. Visibly confused by this, Murphy called out, "Con, where the fuck ye goin'?"

"Ta the feckin' store ta buy some new feckin' rope, no thanks ta _ye_, asshole!" He barked in reply whilst shooting his twin a murderous glare. "Ye feckin' owe me _at least_ ten pints for all o' the damage that ye…"

Managing to block out the annoying noise that he pinpointed as his twin's voice, something the news reporter had said garnered his interest. "Shut it for a second!" Abruptly leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him, he intently listened to the current report being played:

"_…No one is quite sure how many of them there were, but it is clear to the investigators that, from these murders, the Triads have now resurfaced in Boston and have gained enough influence and power to make themselves known. An FBI agent informed our station that killings of this nature have last been reported over 15 years ago. No word yet on the identities of any of the gang members, but the FBI is confident that these crimes will stop and that they will close this case in a matter of weeks…"_

Murphy hadn't noticed that his father and brother had both gathered around him, interests also piqued by the news report. Meeting his father's steel blue eyes, he commented with a tilt of the head, "Looks like the Triads are back in business."

Connor piped up coldly, gritting his teeth, "And it looks like we're not the only ones on their hitlist."

"So what do we do 'bout these guys?" Firm resolve then etched upon Murphy's hard face. "Seek 'em out an' kill all o' 'em? How do we even _find_ the bastards in the first place?"

"When the opportunity presents itself, we'll kill the bastards - all o' 'em." Da firmly responded, jaw tightened and brows furrowed with steadfast conviction. "But I wouldn't worry 'bout findin' 'em, son. When they want ta, they'll show themselves." Claiming his sons' full attention by this point, he finished, "An' if luck's on our side…they'll find us."

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**A/N: Oh, what dear Murphy has to put up with, eh? haha Till next time! xx IFHD**


	7. Blow Me Away

**A/N: I'm seriously blown away by your responses. Thank you for your support! I really do enjoy writing it. I will try to work on this story as much as I can before I leave for Ireland in a couple of weeks. I will try to update as much as possible once I'm there. (Maybe I can meet my personal Irish Saints over there? tee hee) Thanks to Veritas rose, Aramoorn, dragonzfire 718, Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, kitkatbaby611, alandava, Skylinebabe and Jade Opal for reviewing last chapter. Isn't Conn just too cute with his rope? haha And Aramoorn, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer" was **_**exactly**_** what I was going for and actually inspired the story! LOL! Enjoy, everyone! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 7: Blow Me Away**

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_**"Blow Me Away"**_

_**By: Breaking Benjamin**_

_They fall in line_

_One at a time_

_Ready to play_

_(I can't see them anyway)_

_No time to lose_

_We've got to move_

_Steady your hand_

_(I am losing sight again)_

_Fire your guns_

_It's time to run_

_Blow me away_

_(I will stay, in the mess I made)_

_After the fall_

_We'll shake it off_

_Show me the way_

_Only the strongest will survive_

_Lead me to heaven, when we die_

_I am the shadow on the wall_

_I'll be the one to save us all_

_There's nothing left_

_So save your breath_

_Lying in wait_

_(Caught inside this tidal wave)_

_Your cover's blown_

_Nowhere to go_

_Holding your fate_

_(Loaded I will walk alone)_

_Wanted it back_

_(Don't fight me now)_

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Through the three days that slowly passed, Murphy couldn't get Lita out of his mind. Even whilst doing the most mundane things, his thoughts would often drift to her memory, finding that he would wonder about her whereabouts and current state of mind. However, he was more interested in her well-being than anything else, and what surprised him was that he had no qualms about it. If she had been the cold-hearted killer that she had portrayed herself to be, he reasoned, why didn't she kill him and his family when she had the chance? Why couldn't she go through with slitting his throat or asphyxiating him whilst he slept? No, she wasn't a born and bred killer; and every breath that he took was a testament to that.

The quiet tapping of the side window of the car shook him out of his silent reverie. Inclining his head from the steering wheel, he caught a glimpse of Connor's spiked hair peeking in between two, very large paper bags that he held tightly to his chest. Peeping his head in between his massive purchases, the blonde MacManus raised his eyebrows as he impatiently nodded his head to the lock of the door.

"Murph, I think yer brother wants ye ta open tha door."

Rolling his eyes as his impatient brother began to mumble in irritation in rapid Italian, Murphy finally complied with Connor's request and pressed the unlock button upon the side panel. Hopping inside whilst whistling a merry Irish tune, Connor cheerfully passed the bags over to his father at the backseat. "There," he brushed his hands off in satisfaction, "That's all o' it."

Knitting his brows, Murphy snatched the receipt from the top of one of the large bags and quickly scanned its print. Narrowing his eyes, he snapped in sheer incredulity, "Con, ye dick, ye fuckin' spent 200 dollars on fuckin' rope?!"

"'Twas on sale." Connor gave him a nonchalant shrug as he made a move to light a new cigarette. He widely beamed, baring his pearly whites. "Couldn't pass up tha opportunity."

Evidently irritated by Connor's choice of purchase as well, the senior MacManus reached out and over the headrest, giving his son a harsh slap on the back of the head. Ignoring Connor's whines and complaints, the older MacManus grumbled, "We asked ye ta feckin' buy _groceries_! Does rope look like somethin' ye can boil or fry an' eat wid a side o' potatoes?"

Murphy snorted as he flicked the keys and started the engine. "Don't cha worry, Da, I'm sure we can lasso our dinner wid all o' this rope. If we're lucky, we can catch some deer or e'en a wild boar in this part o' the city!"

With a mumbled curse, Connor lunged for his brother's collar and began to push and struggle with him. Shouting at the top of his lungs, Murphy replied in kind by pushing at his brother's face, elbow repeatedly hitting the horn on the steering wheel during his efforts to retaliate. Meanwhile, amidst the commotion and rocking of the car, Da MacManus merely rolled his eyes in a dismissive manner, gaze drifting towards the adjacent road. Expertly blocking out his sons' exhibitions of immaturity, his eyes curiously scanned his nearby surroundings. After a few moments, his keen vision instantly spotted a familiar face. Clearing his throat exaggeratedly, he piped up in a calm tone, "If ye two dick'eads stopped yer fightin' fer a fuckin' second an' look ta yer right across tha street, I think ye'll recognize someone."

Suddenly sitting stalk still, both Murphy's and Connor's eyes shot up and towards the nearby sidewalk, scanning its surrounding area for someone that they would apparently recognize. Loosening his grip on his brother's shirt, Murphy finally recognized Lita through his squinted eyes. Suppressing his automatic elation at her sight, he merely straightened his spine and continued to observe her. Clad in an all-black business suit, she lithely stepped out of a black Mercedes, curiously eyeing the skyrise beside her. She had tied her hair back in a long ponytail and shielded her eyes with plain, black sunglasses. If it hadn't been for the curve of her hips and the fullness of her lips, he mused, Murphy himself wouldn't even have recognized her. With all of his curiosity piqued by her unexpected presence, he pushed Connor back upon his seat in order to attain a clearer vision of what was transpiring before them.

Not long after Lita exited the car, three other men followed suit. To Murphy's amusement, they all seemed to share the same fashion sense, for they were all clad in matching black suits. As one tall, muscular man shared a few, quiet words with Lita, all of the men, too, stared at the building that they had parked in front of.

"I don't recognize anyone," declared Connor after a few more seconds passed, scratching his head in wonder. "All I see is a good-lookin' broad across the street, but other than that…" he trailed off as an expression of realization finally appeared on his face. "Wait a minute. No fuckin' way! Is that Lita?"

"Aye." Da gave them a conceding nod, leaning forward. With a stone expression, he explained, "The man she's speaking with right now is her brother, Luis."

Three pairs of eyes then studied the man who was named Luis. Standing a few inches taller than Lita, the Oriental man was quite tall and broad-shouldered. With short, spiked black hair, his features were harsh, having a pointed nose, hollowed cheek-bones and a clearly defined jaw line. His dark brown eyes showed no signs of mirth, although a hint of softness appeared within them when he spoke with his sister. Taking in his subtle mannerisms, the Saints could not believe that this was the current leader of the Boston Triads – the man who had most likely sent Lita to assassinate them – for he seemed quite harmless. Though, from personal experience, they knew that even the most innocent-looking of people can be the most deadly.

Lita was a prime example.

"She cleans up pretty well, though." Connor lightly mused, taking in Lita's sight from top to bottom. He then let out a bitter scoff as he shook his head, "I'd probably even date 'er if she hadn't done all o' tha try-ta-kill-us thing."

Murphy felt his defenses rise. Squinting his eyes in slight annoyance, Murphy peevishly pushed at the side of his twin's head. "Oi, would ye shut tha fuck up? Pay attention!"

Just as Murphy hissed this, all three men entered the building, leaving Lita outside. Tiredly leaning upon the car door, she crossed her arms and blankly gazed at the sidewalk around her, waiting for the men to return. Reaching for something in her blazer pocket, she began to read what seemed to be a letter of some sort, eyes trailing over the words that she found there.

Murphy didn't even think about what he subsequently did. Much to the shouts and protests of his brother and father, he swiftly exited the car, unable to fight the urge to just _talk_ with Lita any longer. It had been a few days too long, and he hated being kept in the dark about her well-being. Making sure that the coast was clear to his left and right, he placed his hands in his pea coat pockets and began to discreetly jog towards her form.

Just as he reached the middle of the street, however, the three Triad men exited the building in a straight line. Murphy instantly froze. _Fuckin' shit!_ Now, all of their eyes were upon his stilled form, including Lita's; he knew from their expressions that he was in their clear view and that they had immediately recognized him. Before he could decide upon what course of action to follow, Murphy saw that Luis had reached for his pistol inside his blazer pocket. In a reflex action, the Saint ducked and retreated, hand thrusting in his pocket for his own silencer.

A firefight then ensued in the busy streets of South Boston. As a fusillade of bullets pierced the chill air around them, panic quickly erupted, with shouts and cries of various civilians contributing to the thundering noise of discharged bullets. In the midst of the smoke and miniature explosions around him, Murphy wildly ducked underneath a stalled car, feeling the bullets piercing through the pavement and metal around him. Gritting his teeth and inclining his head, he caught a glimpse of his father and brother stealthily exiting their vehicle, firearms violently discharging in both of their hands.

When Murphy made a move to reload, he felt a hand pulling him down even further upon the gritty pavement. Frantically looking up in distress, he instantly recognized Lita, her sunglasses perched atop her disheveled hair. Eyeing him longingly even amidst the deafening sounds surrounding them, she then pulled out a white piece of paper from her suit pocket and firmly pressed it upon his chest. Then, delicately placing her hand upon the side of his face and momentarily pressing her lips upon his, she whispered, "I'm sorry" before disappearing from his sight. Murphy had no time to question her as another bombardment of bullets punctured the car in front of him, sending shattered glass and pieces of metal showering upon him. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he then stuffed the piece of paper in his inner pocket before crawling to his father's and brother's sides. Seeing that they, too, utilized vehicles as their shields, he pressed his back against the door of a crimson car, shouting, "Ye two alright?"

"Aye!" Connor curtly shouted. Hesitating to continue the firefight, he cried, "We can't keep doin' this shite! There are too many civilians around!"

"I don't think the Triads give a flyin' fuck!" Da muttered through gritted teeth, lighting a cigarette with one hand ad he continued to expertly shoot with the other. "Oi, Murph, this'll teach ye ta think wid yer 'ead an' not wid yer wee…"

Murphy was quick to interrupt his father's statement with, "Just don't fuckin' shoot 'er!" Grunting at the thumping pain in his ears, he held his gun firmly upon his chest and waited for another opportunity to shoot. Using the windows of the stores in front of him, he was quick to pinpoint where the shooters hid.

Before he could make a move, however, he suddenly felt a shove from his father. "Try ta get inta tha car without gettin' shot! We gotta stop riskin' the lives o' all o' these people!"

With a conceding nod, Murphy slightly stood and reached out for the door handle of his bullet-punctured car. Though, just as he surfaced, his gaze met Lita's once more for a split second.

His eyes widened in complete shock as he clearly saw the barrel of her gun pointed directly at him.

She seemed to mouth something at him, but Murphy found that she was too far for him to be able to decipher what it was. His moment's hesitation was enough. Before he could jump inside the car for safety, Lita rapidly pulled the trigger and ensued to duck for cover. As the bullet clipped Murphy's shoulder, his arm automatically jerked back, sending his gun tumbling to the ground and skidding upon the sidewalk for a few meters. Crying out in pain, he held onto the bleeding wound as he clumsily stumbled into the vehicle. He looked up just in time to see that Lita, her brother, and their two accomplices had piled into their own bullet-punctured vehicle, bent on escape. As the gunshots faded and finally ceased, all that could be heard was the sound of screeching tires as the Triad vehicle haphazardly careened into the distance.

"Murph!" Connor cried in distress as he frantically hopped into the car beside him. "Murph, are ye alright?"

"It's fuckin' nothin'." Murphy hissed, though clenched his jaw in pain. "Let's just get the fuck outta 'ere!"

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**A/N: First Murphy gets abused, then he gets shot. Let's see if I continue to make this Saint's life hell. tee hee! xx IFHD**


	8. Cross The Line

**A/N: This may be my last update for a while, so I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter: IrishSaints, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, Skylinebabe, dragonzfire718, Jade Opal, kitkatbaby611, alandava, Aramoorn, Sylistra the scholar and BelhavenOnTap.**

**Sylistra the scholar**.: Since I couldn't privately reply to you, I'm doing it here! Thanks for reviewing. Lucky that "mo" landed on my story! For the Irish jokes, offensive was exactly what I was going for, but it was just meant to show Lita's character. This is my 8th BDS fic and am obsessed with the film, so I wanted to explore the twins' characters a little more deeply. Murphy was aggressive with Lita at first, but he was retaliating against someone who was trying to _kill_ him. Let's not forget what Murph did to Rosie when she had only kicked Connor in the nuts; plus, Lita isn't exactly the sweetest woman you've ever met! Female or not, and with the fact that he _is_ more wild and prone to violence than Con, I would imagine he'd be defensive. The "No women, no kids" oath, in my interpretation, means not killing them - and Murphy hasn't killed Lita (yet?). As for Connor, he was drunk until Chapter 7 (haha) and, clearly, he loves his rope. I know the blondie has a silly side as well, not just the "older brother" side (even though we all know Murphy is older! –wink–), so I wanted to show that in this particular story. Since this is Murphy-centric, I don't spend too much time on Da's character, but I thought that I did portray him as wise and as the leader? –shrugs– If he comes off a bit silly, that's where I'm taking my creative license. We don't get to see much of Da in the film, but the twins _had_ to have gotten their silliness from _somewhere_ (although they may already have gotten a lot of that from their Ma). P.S. As for the mild overuse of kinky, it's just because the MacManuses like kinky sex. I know they do.

**Long author's note, but I thought it would help clear things up a bit if anyone else had the same concerns. Cheers! xx IFHD**

**Chapter 8: Cross The Line**

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"_**So Contagious"**_

_**By: Acceptance**_

_Oh no, this couldn't be more unexpected  
And I can tell that I've been moving in so slow  
Don't let it throw you off too far  
Cause I'll be running right behind you_

_Could this be out of line? (Could this be out of line?)  
To say you're the only one breaking me down like this  
You're the only one I would take a shot on  
Keep me hanging on so contagiously_

_Oh, when I'm around you I'm predictable  
Cause I believe in loving you with first sight  
I know it's crazy but I'm hoping to..  
To take a hold of you_

_Oh you're everything I'm wanting  
Come to think of it, I'm aching  
On account of my transgression..  
Will you welcome this confession?_

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Murphy stiffly moved his upper body, gritting his teeth at the surge of pain that shot through his form. Checking the blood-soiled bandage around his upper left shoulder, he studied the wound that Lita had deliberately inflicted upon him, mildly irritated. At first, when the barrel of her gun had smiled directly at him, Murphy had instantly thought that he had just taken the last breath that he would ever take in this world. Though, as he, his father and brother wildly careened through the busy Boston streets to bring him home and cauterize his wound, he had suddenly realized Lita's plausible explanation for shooting him. Injuring him had only been a part of her façade, part of this pretense of hers in front of her accomplices and, to a certain extent, even in front of his own father and brother. She never meant to harm him…much. _It was either that, or she's a fuckin' sadist_, he smirked to himself. Looking down upon the letter that she had pressed upon his pea coat the day prior, the dark-haired Saint re-read it for the hundredth time:

_M,_

_Things are fucked up. I can't tell you how fucked up this all is. Ever since I left your place, I've been doing my research, asking around, even snooping around. And fuck, Mick…I just need to tell you that…I believe you. I believe you now._

_Look, we need to talk alone. Take your car and meet me at the Bunker Hill Monument this Saturday at 9 PM sharp. Don't tell your brother or father._

_L_

_P.S. If you're wondering why I didn't kill you…let's just say I returned the favour._

Murphy neatly folded the wrinkled piece of paper and thrust it in his inner pocket once more. He shook his head. _This broad certainly has a unique sense of humour_, he mused to himself, a smirk tugging upon his lips. What surprised him, however, was that he had actually complied with her request of meeting her in secret. Murphy didn't know what had possessed him to do so, but nevertheless, he had taken the new car out, unbeknownst to his father and brother, had driven to their meeting place, and had parked right in front of the Bunker Hill Monument at 9 pm sharp.

He waited patiently for Lita to show, wondering what she needed to speak with him about alone. Lively tapping his fingers upon the steering wheel, Murphy scanned his surroundings, looking for any sign of her through the myriad of faces which passed in front of him. He hadn't been waiting long – just for a couple of minutes or so – when the passenger door suddenly shot open. A bit startled, the Saint was instantly on his guard, reaching for the pistol underneath his seat. Wide-eyed, Murphy caught sight of Lita swiftly hopping into the vehicle without a word. Slamming the door shut behind her and barely meeting his eyes, she instructed with a tilt of her head, "Just drive to the park down the road. It'll be quieter there."

Murphy continued to silently observe her as he started the engine. He was a bit surprised by how _normal_ she looked. Her long, raven hair was let down, flowing neatly upon her back. She wore a comfortable jean skirt and a simple black blouse – nothing that would indicate her 'profession'. She had no visible weapons on her being, but Murphy wouldn't be surprised if she hid one or two somewhere underneath her clothing. Finding that his mind was wandering off to the question of _where_ she was hiding those weapons, he conspicuously cleared his throat and began to back out of the parking lot.

They drove silently to their nearby destination, not a single word passing between them. It was only when Murphy had parked at an empty lot that Lita turned her face to fully look at him and said, "So, you lived."

This wasn't exactly the conversation starter that Murphy expected, but he rejoined, rolling his eyes for effect, "Aye, like a shot in tha shoulder is _tha'_ life-threatenin'."

Raising her eyebrows in mock surprise, Lita piped up, "Well, if that's the case, next time remind me to shoot you in the head or heart to ensure that you _don't_ survive, alright?"

Shifting in his seat in order to fully face her, Murphy commented lightly with a small smile, "Ye 'ave a sick sense o' 'umour, ye know tha'?"

"Glad you enjoy it." She replied stoically without a smile.

To alleviate the tension that coiled around them, the Saint piped up in a light tone, "Ye made me bleed me own blood. I think I'm gonna 'ave ta return tha favour."

Back tensing, Lita automatically became defensive. Eyes narrowing as she shot Murphy a threatening look, she finally realized, from the mirthful expression etched upon the Saint's countenance, that he was merely winding her up. Tearing her eyes away from the Irishman's, she blankly eyed the vast field and pond in front of her as she declared, "I found them all two days ago: the files, the photographs, all the evidence of the murders that my father and his men have committed." She bit her bottom lip as though fighting not to cry. "My brother knew all this time – even when we were younger – about what my father's 'business' had been all about. And now, he's following in my father's footsteps." Her eyes darted upwards to Murphy once more, whose gaze seemed to cling upon her face. "My brother and his associates all pledged to help me in my search to find and kill you and your family, drilling in my head that my father was an innocent man who didn't deserve to die." She scoffed in upset, silent tears cascading down her cheeks, "But now, after I've confirmed everything that your father has told me about my family's dealings…"

Murphy patiently waited for her to complete her sentence. When she trailed off and made no signs of speaking any further, he attempted to meet her elusive gaze, leaning forward. He said in almost a mere whisper, "Ye've always known this. Ye just couldn't admit it ta yerself." He emphasized, "Ye didn't _want_ ta admit it ta yerself." As her mist-filled eyes finally met his, Murphy placed a delicate hand upon the side of her smooth neck. "Ye loved yer father, an' I can see tha'. But if ye can't accept who 'e really was and what 'e really did, it'll torment ye fer tha rest o' yer life."

Lita clenched her jaw, fighting with all of her might to stop crying. With a sharp intake of breath, she made a move to flick the door latch, open the door, and swiftly exit the car. However, Murphy instinctively shot his hand out and clung to her upper arm. Jerking her towards him without a word, he buried his mouth upon hers, trapping her lips in a searing kiss. Although Lita whimpered in protest, Murphy's mouth continued its assault upon hers, kissing her even more deeply and passionately as his tongue begged for entrance into her mouth.

Lita repeatedly pushed at Murphy's chest and abruptly pulled away from him. As the Saint's eyes fluttered open, he found that he couldn't read the undecipherable expression upon her countenance. Eyeing her questioningly through narrowed lids, he delicately traced her damp cheeks with the backs of his fingers, though made no advance upon her.

_Goddammit, he did it again. Must he _always_ think with his…_

Breathing heavily, Lita found herself unsure of what to do. She couldn't deny the fire that Murphy ignited within her every time they touched, every time he even _looked_ at her. From the moment she had laid eyes on him, she had _refused_ to acknowledge the thumping of her heart at the mere sight of him. She was utterly confused by the fact that she felt a rare emotion in his presence: _desire_. Not just the normal desire of infatuation; but the burning, uncontrollable type of desire that threatened to eradicate all coherent and rational thinking.

"Do ye want me ta drop ye off somewhere?"

Lita repeatedly blinked at Murphy's question, which slapped her back to the present. Repeatedly shaking her head, she gripped the sides of the seats so tightly that her knuckles became white. Then, head snapping up to look at Murphy once more, she cautiously stretched out a delicate hand towards his face as though touching his skin would burn her. The Saint allowed her to trace his cheeks and lips with her curious fingertips, merely sighing and closing his eyes at this innocent contact. After a few moments of familiarizing herself with the contours of his visage, Lita allowed Murphy to take her hand in his, their fingers slowly entwining. Gently pressing his lips upon the back of her hand, Murphy fixated his orbs upon hers.

It was clear what the Saint wanted.

"I don't know if I can do this," Lita admitted so quietly, so demurely, that Murphy had to strain his ears to hear her voice, "Murphy, I…"

There was something in the way that she had breathed out his name that pulled Murphy further into an abyss that he couldn't escape. Eyes now coloured with raging desire, he pressed his lips upon the side of her neck, licking, nibbling, and sucking. When he heard her moan in pleasure, Murphy felt his primal instincts overtake him even more. As savage lust wholly possessed him, Murphy's left hand trailed up her leg and teasingly massaged her inner thighs.

_God, how he wanted her. _

Lita's hips arched up to meet his hand almost automatically. She resolved to release her inhibitions, to disregard the doubts that swirled through her head. Why had she really hesitated? What was she _really _afraid of? Pulling at his taut arm, Lita reveled in the feeling of the comfortable pressure of his adamantine body upon hers. As Murphy's hand disappeared underneath her skirt, Lita let out a light whimper, closing her eyes as his fingers began to rub at her sensitive core. Dragging her fingers from the nape of his neck and burying them into his mussed hair, Lita's head lolled back as the pleasing friction began to claim her.

Just when she thought that the pleasure couldn't be heightened, Murphy's calloused fingers pulled at the string of her thong and delved inside of her in a fluid motion. Momentarily tensing, Lita bit her bottom lip and sat still. Curiously studying her through squinted eyes, Murphy then began to expertly move his fingers in a circular motion, finding himself becoming more and more aroused by the expression on her countenance. Eagerly pressing her body upon Murphy's, Lita cried out breathlessly as the tension within her steadily mounted. With laboured gasps, she hungrily caught Murphy's lips in hers. Her hips moved in rhythm with the Saint's probing fingers; he was so gentle, yet firm, and the unique mix of pressure and pleasure made Lita's entire body quiver.

"Oh God, Murphy…" she hissed as the intense tension within her was almost at its peak, "If this…is what you can do…with your fingers," she whispered hoarsely in between strokes, her wet, parted lips grazing his neck, "…It makes me wonder…what else…you can do…"

"Ye don't need ta wonder, love," With a ragged exhale, Murphy finished simply, "I'll show ye."

As Lita's eyes fluttered open to meet Murphy's intense gaze, she saw a flicker of mischief embed itself within his blue orbs. Feeling the rush of pleasure overtake her body at this very moment, her head rolled back, a passionate cry escaping from her lips. Murphy caught her mouth, and, retrieving his hand, began to hurriedly unbutton the front of her blouse, nearly ripping it. The haste with which he desired to remove her clothing only succeeded in heightening the passion that Lita was already feeling. Greedily feeling his ripped abdomen and chiseled chest, she quickly removed the top layer of her clothing. Desperately wanting to return the favour, Lita reached out for the buckle of Murphy's belt, feverishly tugging at it.

Before she could remove Murphy's shirt, however, a loud knock on the car window made them jump. As they simultaneously broke the kiss, Murphy's and Lita's eyes both darted to the figure standing in front of the passenger seat window. Still in each other's arms, Lita and Murphy shot each other a look before hearing another thud, much more urgent this time, upon the slightly-tinted glass. The figure seemed as though it appeared from the shadows as it bent over, surveying the two of them with a menacing stare. In a bark, the man ordered firmly, "Get outta the car, sis."

_Luis_.

The ardent desire that had coursed through Murphy's body suddenly turned into a feeling of confusion and panic. Pulling himself from Lita's grasp, he found that he had no time to question her about what the bloody fuck was going on. Hearing his car door whirl wide open with a violent swing, he felt himself being roughly pulled out of the vehicle by two men. Before he could meet Lita's eyes, he was unceremoniously dragged onto the gritty gravel of the parking lot.

_Fuckin' shit! This was a fucking set-up!_

As Murphy tried to wildly pull himself free, it was then that he felt a blunt object hit the back of his head.

Everything turned black.

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**A/N: Hope you all liked that! Cross your fingers I'll have time in the next few weeks to update! xx IFHD**


	9. Shades of Gray

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the very, VERY late update. I've been uber busy setting myself up in Ireland and enjoying the great craic (aka IRISHMEN!) haha. But here's a chapter for you after all this time! I will try to update asap, I promise. I definitely kept you hanging for a while, huh? Thanks to Veritas rose, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, dragonzfire718, Skyline babe, GoddessLaughs, kitkatbaby411, ivyshortcake and CrimsonKissMJ for reviewing last chapter. Cheers! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 9: Shades of Gray**

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"_**A Pistol To My Temple"**_

_**By: Scary Kids Scaring Kids**_

_If I flew into a mountain  
Burn myself to nothing  
That would be something  
Would it be enough?  
A pistol to my temple  
Pull the trigger like its nothing  
That would be something, but it's never enough_

_This is all an illusion  
What do you take me for?  
It makes no difference what I do for you  
I would give you my life but it just won't ever be enough _

_I hurt someone that loved you  
Except that I felt nothing  
That would be something, would it be enough?  
I had everything you wanted  
It shows to give you nothing  
That would be something  
This is all too much_

_This is all an illusion  
What do you take me for?  
It makes no difference what I do for you  
I would give you my life but it just won't ever be enough  
It makes no difference what I do for you  
I would give you my life but it just won't ever be enough_

_I'm burning alive  
With a pistol to my temple  
If we don't believe this reason for living  
Then we'll never know do I want to know?  
If we don't believe this reason for living  
Then we'll never know do I want to know?  
If we just give up give into the pressure we're losing it all  
We're losing control_

_It makes no difference what I do for you  
I would give you my life but it just won't ever be enough  
It makes no difference what I do for you  
I would give you my life but it just won't ever be enough_

_(What I would do for you)_

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Lita couldn't rid herself of the choking sensation that progressively formed around her throat. The ride to Luis' "lair", as it were, was a fleeting blur, her mind unable to grasp what had just occurred a mere half hour prior. She felt more than powerless to halt what had eventually transpired; either she went along with her brother's plan or risk exposing what she had truly done. Barely breathing as discomfort wholly engulfed her, she remained still as she sat on the passenger's seat of her brother's car. To her hidden distress and discomfort, Murphy had been thrown into the backseat of a midnight black SUV that now calmly drove behind them, guarded by a few of Luis' right-hand men. Feeling her brother's darkened eyes on her frozen form, Lita refused to meet his gaze as he sternly declared,

"I think we need to have a little talk, don't you?"

It was at that particular point that Lita realized that, for the first time in her life, she was genuinely afraid of her own brother.

Attempting to disregard the growing feeling of dread within her, Lita piped up immediately, keeping her voice strong and steady, "Why are you keeping him alive?" She shut her eyes, and then twisted her head away from Luis. From the constant training and briefing that she had undergone and received from Luis, it had been ingrained within her that these "Saint fucks" had to be obliterated from the face of the earth without a second thought and certainly no questions asked. So why _were_ they keeping Murphy alive?

"Never you mind your pretty little head about that, little sis." The lightness of Luis' tone betrayed the diabolic glint in his dark brown eyes. He momentarily declined his head towards Lita's recoiled form. "First things first. Why are you _fucking_ the prick when I sent you to _kill_ him?"

Although she expertly masked her turbulent feelings with a stoic expression, a rush of panic coursed through Lita's veins. Sifting through her jumbled thoughts, she automatically blurted, "It was part of my fucking plan!" Thinking to add a little weight to her charade, she added with a restrained snarl, "Thanks for ruining it, asshole! I could've gotten all of the Saint fucks one by one if you had just let me finish my job!"

Actually taken aback by this less-than-polite response, Luis' eyebrows slightly raised. "What, you're angry at _me_?" He let out an incredulous scoff as he slowed the vehicle to a stop in front of his three-door, red brick garage. "I asked you to _kill_ the bastard, not whore yourself out to him! It'll do you a lot of good to act with a little more _dignity_, you know." He gave his steering wheel a little shove with the bottom of his palm. "It makes me _sick_ just _thinking_ about all the shit you've been doing with him!"

"Fuck off, Luis. I don't need this righteousness bullshit." Lita feigned irritation as best as she could, eyes squinting. "How else was I supposed to lure him out in the open without him shooting at my face? You saw what they were capable of yesterday!"

Her older brother studied her for a moment, apparently finding _some_ reason in her decisions. "Well, whatever. You don't need to do all of that seduction shit anymore or let that Paddy touch you again with his grubby hands." Kicking the parking break with a jolt of his leg, he finished with, "I'll take care of everything from here."

Lita gulped.

That's exactly what she was afraid of.

The faint slams of doors then caught her attention. Eyes darting to the dim, lamp-lit driveway, she spotted Luis' men exiting from their parked vehicle one by one. Her stare never breaking as she, too, exited the car, she then spotted a glimpse of Murphy's limp body being roughly pulled from the backseat. Masking her worry, she watched in silence as two men carried him out of the SUV, his feet heavily dragging behind him as they unceremoniously pulled him into the house. From what she could see, the Saint was semi-conscious, head lolling from side to side and eyes blankly blinking in visible disorientation. He sported a nasty gash upon the back of his skull, colouring his sweaty forehead and nape with dried, crimson liquid. Trailing behind the procession of Triad members as they made their way into the basement, Lita remained silent as she helplessly surveyed what her brother and his henchmen were planning to do to the Saint.

Without a word of warning, Murphy was dropped like a ton of bricks upon the chilled cement floor. With a pain-filled groan, he coiled into a pseudo fetal position, face crinkling in agony. It took all of Lita's self control to force herself to remain where she was and not run to his aid. Turning her head away from the Saint's writhing body, she heard Luis' calm footsteps as he sauntered towards the Saint. Then, in a move that made her visibly jolt upwards, he sent a shattering kick upon Murphy's ribs, causing the Irishman to groan in utter pain. He repeated the violent motion several times until Murphy rolled over to his other side, spattering out blood all over the grey floor in his wake.

Lita didn't know how much more she could take of this. She wasn't one to be squeamish; though in this particular case, she felt slightly light-headed. Coupled with a wrenching feeling in her stomach, her mind reeled in reaction to what was transpiring before her.

Luis crouched down and calmly rested his elbows upon his knees. With a sly smirk appearing on his pleased countenance, he coolly said, "Well, isn't it nice to finally meet a Saint?" Roughly shoving the back of Murphy's head, he spat through gritted teeth, "Not so high and mighty now, are you, you Irish fuck? What ya gonna do when nobody's here to help you out, huh?" When Luis received no reply, Lita cringed as she heard the violent impact of her brother's fist upon Murphy's skull. Contrary to what his visage exhibited, Lita knew that he had lost all of what was left of his minute patience. Jerking his head to the side, the leader of the Triads commanded in rage, "Tie him the fuck up! Now!"

Being under the mercy of any of the Triad members could and would never, ever be a favourable situation. Deciding that she could at least spare Murphy any more pain from being bound and gagged by any of Luis' men, Lita bolted towards Murphy's side before any of the Triads in the room could respond. Expertly catching the rope that her brother tossed to her, Lita bound Murphy in such a way that it would cause him the least amount of pain yet create the illusion of him being secure on the chair.

Their eyes met in a violent collision.

Lita's heart constricted as she recognized the emotion that shone bright and clear through Murphy's blazing blue orbs: betrayal. She _had _to somehow explain to him what was going on, to scream her thousand apologies about what had been done to him.

But most important of all, she needed to tell him that she had absolutely _nothing_ to do with this.

Only the click of a pistol behind her broke Lita's stare. She was careful not to exhibit her erratic breathing and attempted with all of her being to calm her wildly beating heart.

_This was it. Luis was going to do it._

Raising her head, she caught a glimpse of Luis coolly loading his M9 Beretta pistol, much to the sinister smirks of his accomplices. "One MacManus twin down, one more to go. Then we go for the motherload." With a flick of his wrist, the gun clicked shut and was fully locked and loaded. Luis momentarily studied his black weapon, the shining metal bearing his content reflection. He added with a hint of mirth in his tone, "Or should we say fatherload?"

Murphy was clearly unimpressed by what Luis believed to be his exhibition of wit. "Try ta think o' new material, ye dumb fuck, 'cause yer audience ain't laughin'."

Wide-eyed, Lita whirled her head around to face the defiant Saint, unbelieving that he had the _audacity_ to taunt her brother even in his current position. Even though he saw the warning glare etched within her brown orbs, Murphy only threw the Triads a distasteful look. Openly berating him did cross her mind, but in the end, Lita managed to keep quiet. She feared that with that remark, Murphy had just hammered the last nail in his own coffin; and by the wrathful expression on Luis' countenance, she was positive that Murphy had just breathed his last breath on this earth.

"You don't need to see this."

Feeling a hand coil around her arm, Lita looked upwards to meet the gaze of Nathan, Luis' most trusted right-hand man and, from their teenage years, his best mate. Lita had once believed that this dark, spiky-haired bookworm counterbalanced her brother's often violent nature; but when he had joined the Triads a few years prior, the true, blackness of his heart became ever more apparent. Acting as though his innocent touch had burnt her, she recoiled from his form and hissed, "First of all, don't fucking touch me. Second of all, don't think you have the fucking _right_ to tell me what to do, got it?"

Lita's last-moment plan had somewhat worked, for her outburst had gained her brother's attention. Though, when he dismissively waved a hand to Nathan to leave her be and readied his gun once more, she knew that he would have no second thoughts and absolutely no regrets about killing Murphy. As his silver pistol leveled with Murphy's bloodied forehead, Lita was almost unable to suppress the yelp that threatened to escape her lips. Just as Luis' index finger grazed the trigger, she said firmly, "Wait."

Luis' gun never moved from Murphy's head. Though, her voice had gained his attention, as well as Murphy's. The Saint's chest was visibly rising and falling, and this all the more angered her. With his patience growing thin through the moment of silence, Luis barked, "What?"

Straightening her back, Lita gently pushed Luis' gun away from Murphy's head. "We can use this Paddy as bait. Think about it." She now stood, unyielding, in between her brother and Murphy. "We're out for revenge, aren't we? How is killing this Saint fuck without the audience of his family members going to do us any good?" She wore a perfectly executed spiteful smirk upon her cherry lips. "Look, we want Il Duce and his other bastard son to show himself, don't we? So, let them know we have this fuck and get 'em to come here. It's the only way to get 'em out in the open while flying under the radar, don't you agree?"

For a split second, Lita thought that Luis was about to blow _her_ brains out for what she had just done and confidently suggested. Though, a wide grin eventually appeared on his face after a few moments. Shaking his head with a laugh and playfully pinching her cheek, he commented lightly, "Well, brains _do_ certainly run in this family, huh?"

She copied his pleased expression as best as she could, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "And if our fish don't bite," she swallowed, though finished strongly, "we wouldn't have any further use for him, now would we?"

Luis' twinkling eyes bore upon Murphy's form as he replied with a menacing smile, "Couldn't have said it better myself, sis."

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**A/N: Hope you all liked that! It was very hard "getting back into the swing of things", so to speak, as I haven't written a word until, well, now! I hope my writing is still up to par. Will definitely work on it as much as I can. Don't forget to leave a review! xx IFHD**


	10. Captivate

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back, even if only for a little while. I had a few hours to work on this, so here's another chapter! I'm afraid I didn't have time to refine this chapter as much as the previous ones, but I hope you all like it nonetheless. I haven't abandoned this story, I promise! I'm still in Ireland enjoying everything...ESPECIALLY the Irishmen! ;) Thanks to those who reviewed last chapter: A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, dragonzfire718, ivyshortcake, Skylinebabe, Sith Happens, kitkatbaby611, BelhavenOnTap, alandava, IrishSaints and Freyla. Thanks to those who saved me on their Fave Author's List and Alert List as well! Cheers, and I will update again asap, I promise! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 10: Captivate**

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"_**Umbrella"**_

_**By: Mandy Moore (Cover)**_

_You had my heart  
and we'll never be world apart  
Maybe in magazines  
but you'll still be my star  
Baby cause in the dark  
You can see shiny cars  
that's when you need me there  
With you I'll always share  
Because..._

_When the sun shines  
We'll shine together  
Told you I'll be here forever  
Said I'll always be your friend  
Took an oath  
I'mma stick it out 'till the end  
Now that it's raining more than ever  
Told you we still have each other  
You can stand under my umbrella  
You can stand under my umbrella  
(Ella ella eh eh)  
Under my umbrella  
(ella eh eh)_

_These fancy things,  
will never come in between  
You're my entity  
Here for infinity  
When the war has took it's part  
When the world has dealt it's cards  
If the hand is hard  
Together we'll mend your heart  
Because ..._

_You can run into my arms  
That's okay don't be alarmed  
(Come into me)  
(There's no distance in between our love)  
Gonna let the rain pour  
I'll be all you need and more, oh  
Because ..._

_It's raining  
Ooh baby it's raining (raining)  
baby come into me  
Come into me  
It's raining  
Ooh baby it's raining  
Come into me  
Come into me_

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"Lita!"

As her heart skipped a beat as a result of the sudden call from her brother, Lita immediately straightened her spine and eyed the closed, wooden door in front of her in expectancy. Hurriedly wiping fallen tears of frustration with the backs of her hands as faint footsteps became audible, she weakly called out, "Y-yeah?"

A short click of the lock and a creak later, Luis stuck his head into the room and then motioned towards the basement. He sneered, "Your turn to watch the little Irish shit. It'll only be for a few hours, but lemme know if he gives you any trouble." The Triad don mindlessly picked lint from his midnight-black blazer as he outstretched a firm hand towards her. "In any case…you know what to do if he does."

Lita's eyes flickered down upon the pistol that Luis coolly held out to her.

With an obedient nod as she stood from the leather couch and took the gun, she replied curtly with, "Right. Be down there in a bit."

As she traversed the spacious living room, Lita couldn't help but feel the hairs upon the back of her neck rise as her brother eyed her closely. There was an undecipherable glint that appeared within his brown orbs. Although Lita's instincts immediately told her that the expression was nowhere near menacing, she couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort from her body.

Deciding to leave it and not say a word as she crossed Luis' path, Lita merely took a deep breath before lithely hopping down the basement stairs. Briskly walking through the dimly-lit corridor, Lita dreaded what she would find in the room before her. Taking a final breath, she finally twisted the latch of the door and steadily pushed inwards.

The creak of the metal door pierced the stale air within the musky room. With a single light bulb floating above his head, Murphy seemed almost divine as the steady stream of light emanated down his beaten form. Head bent down and arms tied tightly behind him, Lita was quick to recognize that this had been _her_ position just a few nights prior at the MacManus household. Feeling another lump forming within her throat, she slammed the heavy door shut behind her and made sure to lock it.

"What have they done to you?" she merely whispered in disbelief as she made her way towards Murphy's bloodied and battered form. She tried once more, "Murphy, can you hear me?"

Almost unconscious by this point, the Saint could barely lift his head in order to look at her. With incessant pain coursing through his body and a whirling head to add to his disorientation, the dark-haired MacManus let out a harsh groan through his gag as he somehow managed to find the strength to lift his head.

Tossing the gun aside, Lita walked purposely towards the man whose life she had spared; and, really, the man who reciprocated the gesture. Not knowing how conscious he was, she immediately fell upon her knees and took his dirtied face in between her shaking hands. Supporting the back of his head with one palm and lifting his chin with the other, she scanned his almost unrecognizable visage, feeling another pang of guilt wrench within her stomach. Wiping the dried, crimson liquid with the stretched sleeve of her blouse, Lita did her best to clean the Saint.

Although he wholeheartedly desired to do so, Murphy had no ounce of energy left in him to protest. Allowing Lita to do as she pleased with him, the MacManus remained silent, finding that he had no reason to care what was being done to him any longer. As he attempted to survey her through heavy eye-lids, he could see the sheer concern that was exhibited upon her expression, her brown eyes emanating a hint of guilt. It actually bothered him to realize that her touch continued to burn him; albeit this time, no pleasing sensation stirred within.

Lita's self-control waned. Loosening the gag upon Murphy's mouth without warning, she began to apologetically kiss him, placing butterfly kisses all over his face and neck. Though, when her mouth lingered upon his dried lips, Murphy violently twisted his head away from her form. With a ragged exhale, he snarled through gritted teeth, "Don't ye fuckin' try that on me, ye fuckin' bitch! Get the fuck away from me!"

Lita felt his hoarse voice rip through her insides. Fully releasing him with a jerk, she sat upon the cold floor in front of him, her stare never breaking from his form. With the utmost sincerity, she croaked weakly, "I have _nothing_ to do with this, Murphy. I swear it!"

She could see by the harsh expression that embedded itself on his countenance that Murphy didn't believe a word that she said. Still refusing to meet her gaze, the MacManus kept his eyes fixated upon the bleak floor before him, chest rising and falling in visible upset.

Lita herself was unable to explain just how her brother had known that she would be meeting with Murphy, let alone know _where_ that meeting was going to take place. With the possibilities running through her head, she replied with urgency, "He must have been following me ever since I left my house, or…" _Fuck!_ Lita cursed inwardly, feeling frustration taking over her usually composed self. She pleaded, "Murphy, please! You _have_ to believe me! I…"

"How the fuck can I believe anythin' ye fuckin' say anymore?" Murphy spat relentlessly. With his blazing eyes now falling upon her shrinking form, he merely looked at Lita with sheer contempt and showed no signs of understanding. "Ye fuckin' _lured_ me out in tha open, made me believe tha' ye…" he suddenly trailed off and allowed an almost inaudible curse fall from his lips. "Just thank God tha' he made ye a woman an' tha' I'm tied up 'ere like a dirty dog. 'Cause if it were any other circumstance…"

"You know," Lita began through tight lips, entirely losing what was left of her minute patience, "you showed me once that you didn't have a thick skull, and I once believed that you didn't. But now?" she stood, brushing off her dirtied trousers, "You're _really_ making me doubt myself. I _hate_ doubting myself." By this point, Murphy's darkened orbs finally shot upwards, meeting Lita's once more. Seeing that she had gained his full attention, Lita slightly leaned forward and continued in the same, icy tone, "_Why_ would I need to lure you here in the first place, huh? I could've easily just killed you in your own fucking car, for Chrissake!"

"Maybe the possibility of sex clouded your judgment."

Lita blinked, speechless. She found herself genuinely incredulous with regards to the dry humour that Murphy displayed even in his present state. Giving her head a loose shake, she snorted and challenged, "And what makes you think that I would've let things progress that far?"

Murphy cocked his head to the side in a curt manner and raised an eyebrow. "'Cause deep down inside that 'eart o' yers, ye know ye want me."

_My, this Murphy MacManus is certainly a character. He not only makes it a recurring hobby to laugh at the face of death, but he freely taunts it with cocky remarks._

Facing up to the challenge, Lita leaned forward even more, lips grazing the side of the Saint's cheek. In a chilled whisper, she rejoined, "But _you_ know, deep down in _your_ heart, that _you_ want _me_ even more."

Murphy gave his head a complacent tilt.

_Well, fuck him! He couldn't deny that._

In fact, despite everything that they had gone through, everything that she had inflicted upon him, and even his current captivity, this woman probably turned him on more than any other woman he has ever met in his lifetime.

_Yer fucked up, ye know tha'?_ Murphy mused to himself. _Aye, mate, ye sure are._

Placing all teasing aside, Lita let out a shaky breath as she rested her palms upon the sides of Murphy's face. "…And deep down in your heart, you know that I'm telling the truth." Leaning back, she surveyed his blue orbs alternately, taking in the blurry vision in front of her. Although in a kind voice, she said firmly, "But if you really don't believe that you have an ally in this house, Mick, then I guess I'll just have to prove it to you."

Lita ignored the questioning glance that Murphy threw her as she stood abruptly. Casually picking up the gun from the floor and strolling towards the exit of the room, she kept her back fully turned towards the Saint's confused form.

When she made no move to glance back at him or explain what she meant, Murphy broke and blurted out in anxiety, "An' wha' tha fuck am I supposed ta do?"

As her hand reached for the metal knob, Lita inclined her head to face the Saint once more. "Live."

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**A/N: Hmm. I wonder what Lita has up her sleeve? Till next time, my lovely readers! xx IFHD**


	11. Compensation

**A/N: Hey everyone! I can't believe it has literally been a month since I've updated. My sincerest apologies! I've just been too busy. My "writing time" has been converted to "working and drinking time". Thank you to dragonzfire718, kitkatbaby611, Sith Happens, BelhavenOnTap, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, LilMissAzzurri, Freyla, ivyshortcake, Aspen Le Fay and IrishSaints for reviewing and thank you for reading! Thanks to those who continually support this story. May the luck of the Irish go with ya! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 11: Compensation**

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_**"Know Your Enemy"**_

_**By: Rage Against The Machine**_

_Huh!  
Yeah, we're comin' back then with another bombtrack  
Nigga know it's all of that  
Huh!  
Hey yo, so check this out_

_Yeah!  
Know your enemy!_

_Come on!_

_Born with insight and a raised fist  
A witness to the slit wrist, that's with  
move into '92  
Still in a room without a view  
Ya got to know  
Ya got to know  
That when I say go, go, go  
Amp up and amplify  
Defy  
I'm a brother with a furious mind  
Action must be taken  
We don't need the key  
We'll break in_

_Something must be done  
About vengeance, a badge and a gun  
so rip the mic, rip the stage, rip the system  
I was born to rage against 'em_

_Fist in ya face, in the place  
And I'll drop the style clearly_

_Know your enemy  
Know your enemy!  
Yeah!_

_Hey yo, and get with this...uggh!  
Word is born  
Fight the war, fuck the norm  
Now I got no patience  
So sick of complacence  
With the D the E the F the I the A the N the C the E  
Mind of a revolutionary  
So clear the lane  
The finger to the land of the chains  
What?  
The land of the free?  
Whoever told you that is your enemy_

_Now something must be done  
About vengeance, a badge and a gun  
So rip the mike, rip the stage, rip the system  
I was born to rage against 'em_

_Now action must be taken  
We don't need the key  
We'll break in_

_I've got no patience now  
So sick of complacence now  
I've got no patience now_

_So sick of complacence now  
Sick of sick of sick of sick of you  
Time has come to pay...  
Know your enemy!_

_Come on!  
Yes I know my enemies  
They're the teachers who taught me to fight me  
Compromise, conformity, assimilation, submission  
Ignorance, hypocrisy, brutality, the elite  
All of which are American dreams_

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Lita impatiently tapped her fingers upon the dining table as her eyes slid to the clock above her.

11:15 PM. Fifteen more minutes until her shift to guard Murphy began.

They've held the MacManus twin captive for a full day now, and whatever plan that Luis was meticulously concocting to lure the Saints into rescuing one of their own was taking a while to be realized. Lita herself had attempted to discreetly find out what exactly her brother was planning, though neither he nor his associates truly disclosed anything to her. In fact, it wholly irked her that they treated her like a child, as though she were incapable of "handling" any mob-related business. _Well, fuck those assholes! _She inwardly snarled. _We'll see when I personally put bullets in their fucking heads! _Nevertheless, a complacent smirk tugged on her lips as 11:30 PM rolled along.

_She had everything under control, anyway. It won't be long now. _

_All she had to do was wait._

Listening intently to the distant murmurs through the thin walls of her brother's humble abode, she stealthily made her way to the kitchen and gathered whatever food and supplies that she could find. Completely alert of her surroundings, her eyes darted around her for any visible sign of her brother or his men. Relieved to find that there was none, she walked briskly towards the basement door and scampered down the dimly-lit steps two at a time. Before reaching the room where Murphy was being held, she stashed the objects in her hands in a nearby washing machine. Approaching the wide, metal doors, she banged once with her fist, tapping her foot as she waited for a response. A stream of light then hit her face as the door was finally pulled wide open. She feigned a smile at the man who sluggishly appeared before her. "Riel, time's up." She patted the side of the burly man's arm, curtly nodding up the stairs. "Seems like Luis and the gang are done for the night. Go get your beauty rest."

"Fuck, I never want to be stationed with _this_ prick ever again!" The fatigued Chinaman muttered exasperatedly as he waddled out of the musky room. "I never knew how annoying an Irishman can get…even when he's a fucking prisoner!" With a mumbled curse under his breath, he threw Lita a cordial wave before stomping up the creaking stairs.

Lita raised an eyebrow and momentarily peered inside the room. Snorting to herself, she hastily reclaimed her stashed goods, entered the room, and locked herself inside. As she dumped everything she held in front of her, she briefly studied the MacManus twin. Relieved to see that he wasn't as battered, bloodied and bruised compared to the last time she'd seen him, she piped up in a light tone, "So what's this I hear about you being annoying?"

Murphy threw her a mocking, bewildered expression. As she loosened his gag, he exclaimed with a squeak, "Me? Bein' annoyin'?" He exaggeratedly gasped for effect, "_Never_!"

Lita had tried to keep a straight face at the Saint's dramatic exhibition and subsequent off-key singing. She ultimately failed. Shaking her head, she let out a light laugh and playfully pressed at Murphy's nearby knee.

Taken aback by her reaction, Murphy genuinely had to blink in order to register what was transpiring in front of him. "Holy shit! Was that a real smile?" When Lita threw him a mockingly tired stare, though keeping her smile in place, his eyes rose to the heavens in sheer reverence as he whispered, "Dear God, miracles _do_ happen."

Expertly masking her true emotions, Lita snapped curtly, though in a softer tone that she would have liked, "Don't make me gag you again, MacManus!"

He flashed her a smirk in response. "Why ever so, love? I've other uses fer me mouth, ye know."

"Oh, for the love of –"

"…I would think that all tha' snarlin' all o' the time can get a bit tirin', don't cha think?" Murphy threw her a nonchalant shrug, disregarding any offence taken from his previous remark. He concluded sincerely, eyes lightening up with mirth, "An' besides, ye don't look so bad when ye smile."

Lita took in this compliment more graciously than she could have imagined. However, she remained silent and responded with a light nod. Clearing her throat, she shifted closer to Murphy's side and handed him some food that she had just opened.

Murphy's nose crinkled in mock distaste when he recognized the package in front of him. "Potato chips?"

Lita gave the Irishman a complacent shrug. "Fitting, isn't it?" She rotated the bag to exhibit her point as she continued with, "Even the _bag_ is green! It's like it was made for your Paddy ass or something!"

"Mmm, there ye go wid the Irish jokes again." Murphy playfully rolled his eyes, though ultimately accepted what she offered him. In truth, he really didn't mind their bickering at this point in time. He could tell by her mannerisms that she was uncomfortable with this entire situation and was indeed not part of the plan of kidnapping him. With the hours that he had sat there, tied to a fucking chair, it didn't take him that long to finally believe what she had said the night before. Weighing the evidence and taking into consideration the compassion that she has been showing towards him, he firmly concluded that she was straddling the fence about the situation. She couldn't, by all means, expose herself to her own brother; though at the same time, Murphy _knew_ that she felt a sense of loyalty towards him and to the Triads which she was, in a sense, involuntarily a part of. He couldn't help but admire her steadfast courage and the lightness of heart that she currently displayed. Murphy knew that she was only trying to make best of this situation, this…predicament.

And what a predicament this woman was in.

A part of Murphy felt even sorrier for her position than his own.

"Here," Lita piped up, holding a glass of water upon his dry lips, "I promise it's not poisoned."

Lolling his head back so that he could swallow some of the liquid, Murphy successfully quenched his thirst. Albeit wholeheartedly grateful for the cool liquid, he couldn't help but quip, "'ow 'bout a beer next time, love? It'll probably keep me satisfied much longer."

Lita quirked a brow, unable to conceal a mischievous smirk. "How about this to keep you satisfied?" And with that, she pressed her slick lips upon Murphy's, engulfing his mouth in a searing lip-lock. But when Murphy began to reciprocate the kiss, Lita pulled back, much to Murphy's disappointment.

"'Kay…now _that_ can probably be an adequate substitute fer beer." Murphy puckered his lips playfully. "I'm still thirsty."

Teasingly ignoring his visible request, Lita used Murphy's lap in order to stand up. "Is it just me or is it getting a bit hot in here?" Albeit telling the truth, Lita couldn't fight the temptation to tease the Saint a little bit more. _This man was just too…teaseable! _Seeing that his twinkling, sapphire orbs followed her every move, Lita was conscious of how she seductively walked towards the back wall of the room. Cracking open a small window near the ceiling of the basement, she fanned herself with a hand and let out a dragged exhale. Strolling towards Murphy's side once more, she began to unbutton the top part of her blouse in an excruciatingly slow manner, somewhat exposing the flesh that Murphy desired to see. "Better?"

Eyes graciously trailing up and down her form, the Saint replied in a husky voice, "I'm hotter now, actually."

Lita threw him a mocking frown as she began to straddle him. "Pity," she clucked her tongue and wrapped her arms around his neck. Inching closer towards his form, she heard a low groan erupt from his throat as the friction between them increased. With a smirk, she began to trace her lips down the side of Murphy's cheek and nip at his neck.

"Ye know," the Saint breathed out hoarsely, shutting his eyes in pleasure, "yer fuckin' torturin' me 'ere. _At least_ untie me before ye do all o'…_this!_"

Letting her hand slip down his abdomen and to the buckle of his belt, Lita hissed, "Where's the fun in _that_?"

Murphy reciprocated her advances and began to nip at her neck and collarbone. "Ye know ye want me 'ands on yer body." He found her mouth, tongue slipping in between her slightly parted lips, "An' God knows tha' me 'ands wanna be on yer body."

Although Lita felt a shiver run up and down her spine as a result of his comments, the wall clock suddenly caught her attention as her eyes fluttered open.

Midnight.

_It's time_.

Pulling away from the urgent kiss, Lita pressed her forehead upon Murphy's. With firm resolve plastered on her countenance, she abruptly stood and walked behind his chair. Crouching, she worked on the intricate knots of his binds. Looking up briefly, she saw that Murphy was throwing her a satisfied smirk.

"I'm not untying you for _that_ particular reason at the moment," she curtly stated. "I'm going to get you out of here. I can't stand to see you like this any longer, and…"

"Aww, isn't that sweet?"

The mocking voice that suddenly sounded from the doorway made Lita freeze. Head inclining to see the owner of the voice as she stood, she spotted Nathan contentedly standing by the doorway and throwing both her and Murphy a rueful smile. Dangling keys to the room in his index finger, he strolled inside, eyes never leaving Lita's form. He scoffed, "Who knew that the person to betray Luis would be his own fucking whore of a sister?" With light footsteps, he menacingly made his way over to her. Murphy had tried to kick at him, but Nathan easily evaded his flying legs and managed to reach Lita's side unscathed.

That was, until her fist connected with the side of his face.

More surprised than hurt, Nathan let out a curt yelp, though quickly recovered. With an adamantine grip, his hand abruptly coiled around Lita's neck and roughly pinned her upon the wall. "You're a fucking traitor to your own brother." He wantonly licked the side of her face and greedily cupped her breasts in his large hands. Overcome by desire for her, he snarled, "I bet I can fuck you better than this Irish prick can." He let out a menacing laugh as he pressed himself upon Lita's form. "Hey Mick, you get to watch. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will."

With a raging roar, Murphy attempted to lunge at Nathan whilst still tied to the chair. "Let go of 'er, ye son o' a bitch! I'll fuckin' kill ye wid me own 'ands!"

Nathan scoffed, taking Murphy's threat as empty. "Fighting for your whore, eh?"

With an enraged cry, Lita swung her fist once more at the large man's head and attempted to knee him in the groin. Albeit unsuccessful at the latter as a result of his quick reflexes, her hand did manage to connect with the side of his ear and send his face snapping to the side. The blow, however, didn't seem to cause that much damage. Before Lita knew it, Nathan had dealt her a harsh slap with the back of his hand, sending her tumbling towards the ground and almost knocking her out. Feeling faint, she could barely hear Murphy's distressed voice repeatedly calling out her name.

Before Nathan could mount her, however, faint clippings of silencers suddenly sounded from outside, followed by grunts of men and violent thuds of dead bodies. Alarmed by the commotion, Nathan reached for the gun in his holster and seemed to be torn as to what he should do. Eying Lita for a brief second, he had expected the same, distressed expression to be plastered upon her face.

But he was to be disappointed. The expression on Lita's countenance was unmistakable:

Relief.

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**A/N: How will the rest of the story unfold? -gasp- Till next time, my lovely readers! Will try to update asap! xx IFHD**


	12. Blurry

**A/N: Guess who's back? Are you all happy to see an update? I'm glad if you are! I know it has been a long time coming, but I've finally managed to write a chapter after a couple of months of being inactive! I hope it isn't complete bollocks.**

**Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter: Aramoorn, kitkatbaby611, ivyshortcake, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, dragonzfire718, Aspen Le Fay, Confuzzled2011, Irish Saints, Keliane and babyhilts. Special thanks to Keliane for creating fanart for this fic! Very delighted by that.**

**I believe I'll be able to update more regularly now. I will try to update as soon as I can, but since I'm still fresh from a long hiatus, I'll take my time with the next chapter and make sure it's not complete shite!**

**Happy reading!**

**xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 12: Blurry**

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"_**Close Range"**_

_**By: So They Say**_

_Back away, or I just might hold you responsible for what I have to do  
Tonight paint it white and start all over  
But the liar's gone now though we can't_

_Break away from design  
Take a breath for it, I'm gonna save you  
Don't try to say thank you  
I'd be lying if I said hiding the truth was something that I can tell (couldn't tell)_

_Back away, if it gets too hot  
You're too indecisive and all alone, this time you caught my eye  
You start to think you need a change don't forget you are at close range, close range  
I'd just like to say, thank you_

_I'd be lying if I said hiding the truth was something that I can tell  
I'd be lying if I said hiding the truth was something that I can tell_

_I've been around and I can't think for myself  
You wanna take a breath (but) death is my scapegoat  
I'd just like to say thank you  
I'd just like to say_

_I'd be lying if I said hiding the truth was something that I can tell  
I'd be lying if I said hiding the truth was something that I can tell (couldn't tell)_

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Utilizing Nathan's momentary distraction, Lita raised her leg in a lightning move and side-kicked his outstretched hand. As she watched the gun fly from his grasp and ricochet off the adjacent wall, she sent another blow to his groin, this time successfully connecting. As the towering bulk of a man doubled over, she used her last ounce of strength to elbow his chiseled face and rapidly kick at his knee caps. Nathan's roar of pain caused a sadistic smirk to appear upon Lita's lips. Judging that he would be hurting for a while longer, she scurried behind Murphy's chair and began to hastily untie him once more.

"Lita, Lita, ye alright?" Murphy cried in utmost concern as he felt his hands becoming loose. Ignoring the racking pains that mercilessly coursed throughout his sore and beaten body, the Saint shook off what was left of his bonds and immediately cupped Lita's delicate face. Resting the palms of his hands firmly upon her cheeks, he looked her over, wearing an expression that was a mixture of relief and panic. "W-what's happening?" he blurted shakily, "Who the fuck is attacking your men?"

Lita parted her lips to reply, but before she could utter a word, a series of shouts and thuds sounded from the room directly above them. Followed by more clippings of silencers and fallen bodies, they then heard rapid footsteps coming closer, surely heading towards them. As panic rushed through Murphy's veins, he lunged for the discarded gun to his left, expertly cocked it, and in less than a second, held it steady towards the doorway. Although he and Lita heard Luis spewing shouts and curses in the distance, the next faces that appeared through the doorway were ones that Murphy never expected.

As the metal door burst wide open, it revealed a blood-covered Connor and a heaving Da with guns locked, loaded and poised to kill in front of them.

The twins' instincts saved them from instantly shooting at one another. At the sight of the other, each twin reflexively lowered his gun, a sigh of relief subsequently escaping from his lips. As Murphy threw Connor a stern look, the blonde MacManus instantly knew that his twin was alright. Meanwhile, Da kept his gun raised and, without a moment of hesitation, sent a bullet through Nathan's torso.

Lita jumped at this, staggering backwards and almost losing her balance. Wide-eyed, her gaze connected with each MacManus alternately, her fiery brown orbs then resting upon Murphy's own. When Murphy made a move to briskly walk to her side, a fusillade of bullets ripped through the metal door and narrowly missed Connor's back. Ducking for cover, each MacManus readied their weapons as guns continued to discharge and another shower of bullets embedded themselves within the furniture and walls around them. Covering her body entirely with his, Murphy gritted his teeth as he took Lita in his arms and tightly embraced her.

"Stop!" They faintly heard Luis order in the midst of receding shots. "My fucking sister is in there!" he screeched in sheer panic, a tone which Lita has rarely heard from her brother.

_**Flashback**_

_"Lita, don't look. Lita!"_

_With blazing eyes, the ten-year-old refused to heed Luis' numerous, panic-filled warnings. Fighting the arms which he had snaked around her shoulders, Lita violently pulled away from her brother and bolted into the adjacent room without a second thought. _

_She could smell the rotting stench even before she had stepped inside. As she reflexively covered her nose, Lita's mist-filled orbs darted around the bathroom in wild panic._

_What were once white-tiled floors were painted with crimson liquid, stucco walls sprinkled with red dots. The trickling of water from a closed tap suddenly caught her attention. Eyes rising, she could see a single, pale hand slumped over the edge of the bathtub; the rest of the body was not visible. Lita took a step forward, feeling as though her feet weighed a million tons. With a gulp, she mustered was left of her remaining courage to peer inside. _

_Lita's breath became caught in her throat._

_The sight which greeted her would remain with her for the rest of her life: her mother, half floating, was lying face-first in the water-filled tub. _

_"M-mom?" she half-gasped, half-sobbed. Unafraid, she wrapped her delicate fingers around her mother's cold ones. When she received no reply nor saw any movement, she shouted much more forcefully, "Mom, get up! Please, get up!"_

_As light-headedness began to overtake her and her vision began to blur, she felt Luis' arms wrap around her once more. This time, however, he held her in comfort and not restraint. "Shh," Luis soothed awkwardly; one could tell that he was not one to comfort others. He held her closely, resting his sharp chin upon her head. "Shut your eyes. Don't look. Just shut your eyes." He repeated these words over and over as Lita's body began to involuntarily shake. _

_Before she lost all consciousness, Lita heard her brother pledge, "I'll be here for you, Lita. I'll take care of you always. I promise."_

_**End Flashback**_

Lita knew that Luis would stop at nothing to ensure her safety. As she heard his light, brisk footsteps approaching, her entire body tensed. She was genuinely fearful of what her brother was even _thinking _of doing, let alone what he was capable of doing. Eyes connecting with Connor's, Lita bolted from Murphy's arms without a word of warning and headed straight towards the doorway.

"Lita!" Murphy cried in distress as he chased after her without hesitation. Firmly held back by his father, the Saint's blood-shot eyes could only linger upon Lita's form as she stepped closer and closer towards the punctured, grater-like door.

When Luis' built form stepped into view, Connor instantly lunged at Lita, snatching her by the small of her waist and fiercely wrestling her to the ground. Wholly taken aback by this, Luis could only hold out his gun directly in front of him.

He sure as hell wasn't willing to take the risk of shooting his own sister.

Meanwhile, Murphy had tried to relentlessly break free from his father's grip, though was unable to do so as the senior MacManus continuously held him back. Thanks to the current state of his body, even his aging father was able to overpower him. With a grunt, he tried to break free once more. _What the fuck is Connor doing? _The dark-haired MacManus cried inwardly, sheer adrenaline and panic pumping through his veins.

Would he be able to forgive his brother if he did anything to Lita? _Could_ he be able to forgive him?

Murphy's inner ramblings were interrupted as Lita made a move to break free herself. With a cry, she attempted to push Connor away from her writhing body, struggling with the Saint. Pressing his form even closer upon her own, the blonde MacManus discreetly whispered in her ear, "Ye alright?"

"Yeah." Lita replied in a like manner, albeit feigning hurt. At the top of her lungs, she cried out, "Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

Connor smirked. "Good." In a matter of seconds, he pulled Lita by the hair to her feet and menacingly held a gun upon the bottom of her neck. With blazing sapphires staring daggers at the nearby Luis, he snarled without a hint of hesitation, "Let us walk outta 'ere alive, or she dies." Cocking the gun to emphasize his demand, he added with a smile, "An' don't think tha' I willna do it either."

"Connor!" Murphy cried out in utter panic, completely aghast at what was transpiring before him. _Connor wouldn't do it. He _couldn't_ do it!_ Murphy's paled expression was congruous to that of Luis', who had held up a hand in a show of surrender yet continued to hold his gun out firmly in place.

Murphy was scared shitless. He had no clue what was happening and, to his irritation, had no clue how to react. He had never felt so torn in all of his life.

"Let her go, you fucking cock!" Luis' voice and hand simultaneously shook, though he managed to expertly keep his harsh composure. "Or I swear to you, I will _personally_ put bullets in _all_ of your fucking heads!"

Connor merely smiled at the harsh threat. "Not if we put bullets in yours first." To raise Luis', and also Murphy's, concern even more, his calloused fingers gripped around Lita's neck, constricting even more tightly when she attempted to jerk away. With a complacent tilt of his head, he continued with, "So what's it gonna be, asshole? Are ye really gonna risk killin' yer own sister?"

Luis' gun wavered with ceasing resolve as his entire body began to visibly shake. He couldn't act stupidly now; not when his sister had a fucking gun implanted upon her face. Gritting his teeth, he finally decided to fully lower his gun, much to the relief of everyone present in the room. "Hold your fire!" the mob Don shouted furiously to his men outside. Then, turning his attention back to the smug, blonde Saint, he snarled through tight lips, "Let her go."

"Are ye kiddin'?" A mischievous smile then appeared upon Connor's handsome, chiseled face. He scoffed, "We're keepin' 'er till we're safely outta this place. Call it collateral, if ye will."

Moving sideways and dragging Lita closely with him, the blonde Saint motioned his head briskly towards the door. Understanding his signal, Da began to walk purposely towards the exit, pulling Murphy unceremoniously behind him by the collar of his ripped shirt. With a heaving chest, Murphy's eyes briefly connected with Lita's, and in return, she wore an indecipherable expression upon her countenance. Filing out of the room one by one in close succession, Connor waited until his brother and father were entirely out of sight before budging once more.

"Let her go!" Luis boomed, shaking with sheer rage as he lost all of what was left of his patience. Reading his body language, both Connor and Lita could tell that the volcano within him was about to erupt.

Though, Connor decided to push his luck o' the Irish even further.

The Irishman gave Lita a quick once-over. "This sister o' yers is too pretty." He cocked his head to the side as another smirk plastered itself upon his thin lips. "I think I'll keep 'er."

And with that, he shut the door behind him, leaving the helpless Luis inside the room.

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**A/N: Are you all as confused as Murphy? haha! Hope you all enjoyed that. Cross your fingers that I update quickly! xx IFHD**


	13. Boundaries

**A/N: Hey everyone! An update on this story: I've planned it all out, and it looks like it'll reach about 30 chapters or more, if all goes well! So hey, you're not even halfway done the story yet (and I'm not even halfway done writing it)! There's SO much more to come, so I hope you all stick by this story.**

**I've been listening to a lot of Staind lately while writing this story (especially their new album), and I think their music represents the sort of mood that I want to accomplish. If you haven't heard of the band, their lyrics are great for this storyline (which is why I'm using a lot of their songs), and their music is beautifully haunting.**

**Thank you to those who reviewed: alib1989, A Hotter Kiss A Better Touch, dragonzfire718, babyhilts, kitkatbaby611, Aspen Le Fay, Jade Opal, IrishSaints, LilMissAzzurri. Thank YOU for reading and for keeping me inspired! **

**Also, after speaking with Troy Duffy's mate, the BDS crew is currently filming the sequel. They just recently they started filming in one of my hometowns, Toronto. Who's excited? I know I am!**

**xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 13: Boundaries**

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"_**Cross Out The Stars"**_

_**By: Fightstar**_

_I woke up cold November,  
It takes a lot to show my face around here.  
I've only myself to blame._

_I tried not to lose,  
What I tried so hard to show to you._

_How long, can I wait here?  
I'm all torn, by your words.  
I'm broken, yet we're still burning,  
Just hold on till the end._

_I crossed out all the stars,  
To try to show that she was once amongst them.  
I've only myself to blame._

_It's been a long time,  
It's been such a long time._

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_**Flashback**_

She could not remember the last time she had felt this pang of nervousness.

Biting her bottom lip as she anxiously wrung her hands in front of her, Lita finally managed to muster enough courage to knock upon the semi-decrepit wooden door before her. She slightly held her breath as she awaited a response, her eyes mindlessly fixated upon the crooked number that had been awkwardly nailed upon the door. After a few moments of silence and inactivity, she shut her eyes.

Lita hoped that they would understand the present predicament, that they would be willing to help her instead of _kill_ her…

With a million and one thoughts running through her mind and her worry for Murphy's safety escalating with every elapsed minute, Lita poised her hand once more to knock in impatience. _These Micks better be home, or I'll… _Before she had the chance to do so, however, the annoying barrier swiftly swung open, shortly revealing a bewildered Connor MacManus. For a few moments, they merely stood at a standstill in complete silence, neither knowing what to say or do.

'Awkward' was certainly a euphemism to describe the present situation.

"Hey." Lita croaked out almost sheepishly, finding it somewhat difficult to maintain eye-contact with the Saint. This task, she was quick to realize, was more challenging than she had predicted. "I…uh…," she stammered, raking her long fingers through her jet-black hair, "I need to speak with you and your father right _now_."

Instantly on his guard, Connor's back immediately tensed. At first glance, Lita, at present, did not seem all that menacing or threatening to the blonde Irishman; though he knew, from previous experience, that looks can be _very _deceiving. Clenching his jaw, he slightly stepped out of his apartment, brusquely surveying the space behind Lita for any sign of her accomplices or any impending danger. When he found neither, his defenses lessened, albeit only for the time being. Bright blue eyes landing upon the dark-haired woman in restrained suspicion, Connor stepped inside his apartment once more, though made no motion to invite her inside. "Wha', are ye gonna spew out more o' yer death threats or somethin'? 'Cause if ye are, I think me Da an' me are gonna _ever so kindly_ pass on tha' particular offer." He threw her a curt salute. "Thanks a million fer yer time!"

When he made a move to rudely slam the door upon her face, Lita, in a lightning move, stuck out a foot in front of her and propped the door open. Surprised by this, Connor's head instantly snapped up to meet her blazing gaze. Pressing a flat palm upon the half-opened door, Lita lightly pushed it open even further, hoping to exhibit that she meant no harm. When she finally regained the MacManus' full attention, she hissed through tight lips, "Look, Blondie, things have changed, alright? You have to know that we have a serious problem on our hands."

"'We'?" The Irishman squealed in a high-pitched voice, "'Our hands'?" His once knitted brows steadily rose with every question, "…'_Blondie_'?" With an unabashed snort, he declined his head as he studied the brazen woman in front of him. Out of all the unfortunate occurrences that could have transpired today, _this _woman just had to appear behind the door of his home. Even spilling a pint of Guinness – something that is _highly_ frowned upon – would have been more favourable than being in the presence of his present company. Shaking his head in incredulity, he pointed a stern, guilty finger at her nose and slightly wagged it in warning. "Ye know, yer lucky yer a woman, 'cause I'd prolly be forced ta kill ye for shootin' me brother if ye weren't." Trying to make her leave once more, Connor pushed at the door handle, visibly fuming by this point. With a dismissive tilt of his head, he barked without restraint, "Now get outta me sight b'fore I do somethin' stupid, ye get me?"

Fully shoving the door in upset, Lita sent Connor lunging forward further into the apartment. With purposeful strides, she swiftly entered the MacManus abode, showing neither fear nor hesitation. Slamming the door shut behind her, she curtly snapped, "Will your Paddy ass just _listen_ to me for a fucking second?" When she observed that Connor merely blinked in utter incredulity of her actions, she hurriedly continued, "I shot Murphy to make it look convincing to my brother and his men, alright? I purposely shot him where I knew it wouldn't cause much damage or be life-threatening." Crossing her arms tightly in front of her, Lita's gaze fixated upon the ground. She mumbled, "Look, I met with him tonight to straighten everything out, but…"

By this point, Connor's interest was finally piqued. Where _had _his twin been all night? It wasn't uncommon for Murphy to leave the apartment in search of some good craic in the city centre, but he would never be absent for _this_ long without giving his brother or father _some _indication of his current whereabouts. Although masking his upset, Connor prodded impatiently, "But what?"

Lita lightly gulped as she confessed in a distinctly lowered tone, "My brother and his men must have followed me and they've…they've taken Murphy back to their headquarters, and – "

"What?" Connor rightly boomed, causing Lita's heart to slightly jump. The confusion which the blonde Irishman felt manifested itself through his subsequent actions. Almost flying through the doorway of his room, he, like a wild animal, gathered his belongings and haphazardly buried them inside a nearby knapsack. What was Lita even _doing _here, at his home, telling him about this? Was she merely trying to set _him_ up, forcing him to appear out in the open, wild and concerned for his brother's well-being? Though, whatever her reason, and whatever may be the consequences of his actions, he could never allow himself to risk his twin's life – not now, not ever.

"I'll take you and your father to where he is," Lita's voice calmly sounded from the entrance of Connor's room, "That is, if you don't shoot me in the face first."

Connor abruptly froze, arms still poised to pack his belongings. Slowly lowering the knapsack upon the bed, he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as he studied the woman behind him through the corners of his eyes. "An' 'ow do we feckin' know tha' we can trust ye? Tha' this ain't another plot o' yers ta get us all out in tha open, hmm?"

Lita took a few, confident strides forward and stood directly behind him. "Because you have no other choice, MacManus. Your brother has been kidnapped by mine, and I don't know what neither Luis nor the rest of his Triads will do to him." When she still did not see Connor budge from his stalk-still position, she proceeded to prod even further, raising her voice, "Every minute that you hesitate, you're putting Murphy's life in more danger! Do you even _know _what my brother is capable of? What the rest of his men will do to him if you –"

In a move that took Lita aback, Connor whirled around without warning, dropped everything that he was holding, and ensued to enfold his fingers around her upper arms. He constricted his hands tightly enough to hold her firmly, yet loose enough so as not to hurt her. Boring his enraged orbs upon Lita's, he growled without restraint, "How _dare_ ye feckin' turn this shite on me? Ye an' yer men are responsible for all o' this…if 'this' is even the truth in tha first place!" He gave her a rough shake and refused to release her, "Ye best not be playin' wid me, girl, 'cause Lord knows tha' if ye are…" Connor trailed off momentarily, not knowing exactly where his threat, empty or otherwise, was headed, "If _anythin'_ 'appens ta me brother, I'll…"

In swift retaliation, Lita roughly pushed at the Saint's adamantine chest, though failed to escape from his grasp. "How am I going to get you to believe that I'm trying to fuckin' _help _you and not trick you? What exactly do you want me to say or do, huh?" Her eyes narrowed in her exhibition of upset, "I don't want anything to happen to your brother, alright? I have no weapons and I'm not playing any tricks." Tilting her head upwards and holding her hands out to her sides as though in challenge, she finished with, "Check me if you want."

Although doubt was not entirely erased from Connor's mind, he couldn't help but find some truth in Lita's statements. He hesitated for a moment, but when he reminded himself that time was against him, he complied with Lita's request and began to feel her, from head to toe, for any sign of weapons.

Lita didn't flinch. However, Connor was surprised to feel a bit nervous about having such close contact with this particular woman. Trying not to meet her inquisitive gaze, he silently continued his task.

"Watch where that hand goes, Blondie."

Connor's back straightened at her warning, but retorted with, "Oi! Ye asked me ta check ye, so I'mma check ye." He pursed his lips. "Now, be a good little girl an' spread 'em."

Lita raised a challenging brow. "My arms are as far out as they can go. They're not fuckin' elastic, are they?"

Connor smirked, a twinkle appearing in his sapphire orbs. "I'm not talkin' 'bout yer arms, sweetheart."

Although feeling her self-restraint waning, Lita managed to remain silent and obediently do as she was asked. In any other given situation, she would have not thought twice about beating this infuriating Mick to a bloody pulp. Though, knowing that an injured Blondie wouldn't be conducive to a successful rescue mission, she thought it best to breathe and temper her anger…for the time being.

Connor certainly took his time. He ran his hands firmly upon each of Lita's legs in a languid manner, steadily rising with each check. Sliding his hands from her ankles to her thighs in a fluid motion, he allowed his firm gaze to meet hers in the meantime. Keeping her stare as he stood fully upright once more, the Saint uttered not a word. Seeing his current proximity to Lita, he realized that he had somehow moved only inches from her body; in the end, he made no indication of budging from his position.

Lita could feel his warm breath tickle the side of her cheek. With noses merely centimeters apart, she blurted out after a few moments passed by, "Are you done yet?"

Connor studied her for a few moments. With his searching eyes landing upon her orbs, he replied in a low tone with, "In a few minutes." His hands began to trail down the sides of her waist, "I'll just make sure yer not hidin' anythin' o'er 'ere…"

It finally occurred to Lita that he was merely trying to get a rise out of her by this point. Irritably slapping his hands away from her form, she snarled, "Alright, that's enough, Mick! I've proved my point. Now, will you get your shit together and come help me free your brother?" When all Connor replied with was a complacent smirk, she blurted in annoyance, "And will you _please_ take two steps back? I miss my personal space, thank you very much!"

Connor slightly bent his head and allowed his slick lips to graze the side of her ear. "Ye know ye enjoyed it as much as I did."

Lita inwardly snorted.

_Irishmen. Always thinking they can charm the pants off of you!_

Deciding to ignore the latter comment, she merely made a move for the door. However, something in Connor's eyes had quickly changed. Clouded eyes replaced that of the glint of flirtation, transforming his orbs into a deep, royal blue. Holding out an arm in order to halt Lita mid-stride, he questioned sharply, "Why would ye risk yer life ta come back 'ere an' 'elp us?"

Little did the Saint know, that same question currently haunted Lita. She herself couldn't explain what drew her to these MacManuses, why, considering everything that had happened in the past and how their two families were linked, she would even _think _of going behind her brother's back and betray his trust. But in this particular situation, who was really the culprit? Wasn't their main target Il Duce in the first place? Was it really necessary, in their enactment of revenge, to be rid of the _entire_ MacManus family?

Lita knew that even assassins had a code of honour.

The borders of right and wrong and good and evil had been blurred long ago, and yet, _something_ within Lita was telling her that she was trudging through the right path. And she knew, deep down inside, that Luis wasn't merely keeping Murphy as collateral.

He didn't have time to play games.

"I'm doing it for your brother," she finally responded after a few moments of silent contemplation. "So, for the love of God, and for the love of your brother, get your shit together and hear me out. You know this, and I know this: I'm the best weapon that you'll ever get against Luis and his men."

Although Connor lowered his arm from her form, he raised his opposite hand and placed his open palm against her cheek. "'owever this may turn out, love, know tha' we MacManuses would _never_ kill a woman." He paused briefly, caressing the side of her face with his calloused thumb, "But as fer yer brother an' 'is men…"

Lita pursed her lips as she inclined her head. "Your brother for mine."

"Wha'?"

"If Murphy gets out alive, you leave Luis unharmed and untouched." Shutting her eyes, she swallowed before proclaiming, "He's still my brother, Mick, and no matter what, I _will_ protect his well-being," she pulled Connor's hand away from her face, "Even if it means that you'll have to go through me first, then so be it." Straightening her blouse, she continued sternly, "Think of this as a temporary truce, MacManus. You'll have your brother, and I'll still have mine. Then, after this 'situation' is through, we can go back to the way things used to be."

"Ye mean ye'll go back ta huntin' me Da?"

Unflinching, Lita whirled around and made her way through the threshold of Connor's door. "I brought back your car," she replied evasively as she strode purposely towards the front door. "When your father returns, tell him that I'll meet you two outside of your apartment at 8 o'clock, sharp, tonight. Hopefully I'll have more information about what's going on by then."

As he trailed after her, Connor knitted his brows in curiosity. "An' wha' do ye propose we do ta get me brother back?"

A complacent smirk appeared upon Lita's face as she twisted her head to face him. "Kidnap and hostage."

_**End Flashback**_

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**A/N: Well, did that explain what the hell happened last chapter? haha But hey...Connor and Lita? Hmmm...interesting. xx IFHD**


	14. Beatification

**A/N: So...I can't update as quickly as I previously believed! But here's another chapter for you. I have to be honest, however. I'm so busy that I often lose inspiration for this story. Any suggestions? I'd really love to hear from you - PM me if you must! I need to get my head around this story again. Please, give me some inspiration! Give me anything!**

**Thanks to those who reviewed and to those who continue to support this story.**

**xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 14: Beatification**

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_**"Believe"**_

_**By: Staind**_

_I sit alone and watch the clock  
Trying to collect my thoughts  
All I think about is you  
And so I cry myself to sleep  
And hope the devil I don't meet  
In the dreams that I live through_

_Believe in me  
I know you've waited for so long  
Believe in me  
Sometimes the weak become the strong  
Believe in me  
This life is not always what it seems  
Believe in me  
Cause I was made for chasing dreams_

_All the smiles you had to fake  
And all the shit you had to take  
Just to lead us here again  
I never have the things to say  
To make it all just go away  
To make it all just disappear_

_It's my life  
It's my choice  
Hear my words  
Hear my voice  
And just believe_

_I sit alone and watch the clock  
Trying to collect my thoughts  
And all I think about is you_

_If you believe in me  
Life is not always what it seems  
Believe in me  
Cause I was made for chasing dreams_

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Lita's eyes lingered upon the retreating vision of Luis' abode as the MacManus' vehicle haphazardly screeched forward into the cover of darkness. Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, she momentarily placed the palms of her hands upon her face and then ensued to rake her fingers through her disheveled hair. From her right side, Connor discreetly reached out towards her and gave her shoulder a light squeeze, as though in an offering of congratulations. As her eyes flickered towards the blonde MacManus' form, he threw her a silent nod before placing his dirtied weapons inside a duffel bag tucked in between his feet.

Feeling Murphy's inflamed orbs upon her as he sat in the front passenger's seat, her gaze moved to his countenance. With visible concern etched upon his expression, the irate Irishman snapped at his brother and father, "Wha', now we're takin' 'er 'hostage? Tha fuck are ye two _thinkin'_?" His face crinkled in distaste as he slapped an open palm upon the dashboard in sheer frustration. "That's not gonna get tha Triads off o' our backs! Now they'll be huntin' our arses down fer _sure_!"

Albeit keeping his collected composure, and without looking up at his twin, Connor replied bluntly through his teeth, "Would ye rather be dead, swimmin' in yer own blood, then?" Sapphire orbs finally connecting with his brother's, Connor stated curtly, "This was the only way ta get ye outta there breathin', not ta mention ta get our arses outta there alive as well." Tilting his head towards his father and Lita alternately, he finished with, "Just calm the fuck down fer now an' thank God tha' ye came outta there alive. We'll explain everythin' once we get back ta tha apartment."

Murphy was unsure if he could handle being kept in the dark, even for only a few more minutes. Though seeing that none of the three seemed to be willing to disclose any information at present, he tried his best to relax upon his seat and concentrate on the blessed fact that they _all _had managed to get out of Luis' abode alive. Momentarily eyeing Lita from the rearview mirror, he could see that, as she was distantly staring off towards the nearly deserted Boston streets around them, there was something peculiar about her expression. Studying her even more closely, he finally recognized what it was: a mixture of conflict and doubt. Though, as Il Duce drove down the ragged ramp of the underground parking lot and subsequently turned off the engine, he could see the latter expression dissipating, morphing into that of relief and curiosity.

As they all exited the car and began to walk towards the MacManus apartment, Murphy's brows furrowed as he blatantly noticed that neither Connor nor his father were particularly paying attention to Lita's actions. He also noted the disturbingly calm expression plastered upon Lita's face as she closely followed them; she exhibited no intentions of attempting to escape, either. Feeling confusion and fatigue consume him even more, Murphy could barely control his irritation as the four of them strode into the MacManus household. "A'right, wha' the fuck's on' on?" he cried in distress, irritably ruffling his hair in the process. "Don't tell me tha' ye set this up?"

"You're welcome." Lita muttered distastefully as she shook her head and shrugged off her coat. Twisting her head to meet Connor's glance, she quipped with a motion of her head, "Is he _always _this grateful?"

Before Connor could retort with something predictably insulting, Da responded with a nonchalant shrug as he tossed his belongings aside. "Bad 'abit tha lad couldn't shake while growin' up." Cocking a stern brow at Murphy's direction, he playfully mused, "Maybe yer Ma an' I shoulda 'ad yer bony arse whipped fer tha'!"

"It's never too late for that." Lita snorted as-a-matter-of-factly, earning a light scowl from the dark-haired Saint. Batting her eyelashes innocently in response, she patiently waited for Murphy's rejoinder. The Irishman's mouth was agape in incredulity, though he did not manage to vocalize anything. Smirking at her victory, Lita expertly caught the can of beer that Connor had lithely tossed to her from the kitchen.

Murphy could only watch in confusion as Lita snapped open the lid and ensue to gulp down the well-deserved beverage. "A'right, so ye set this up. Now can someone _please_ en-fuckin'-lighten me on 'ow all o' _this_," he waved his arms wildly around him, "_…_'appened?"

Motioning his head towards Lita's form, Connor replied proudly with, "'Twas 'er idea. She twisted me arm, an' I went along wid it." Heaving out a sigh as he strolled towards their 'hostage', he nudged her with his elbow as he commented, "Went without a hitch."

Lita threw him a grateful nod as she lifted her beer. "_Slainte_, Blondie."

_How fucked up is _this_? _Murphy inwardly cried. After everything that had transpired between them, Lita and his family were…_working together_? How on God's green fuckin' earth was _that _possible?

Finding that he had difficulty wrapping this revelation around his already injured head, Murphy snatched the beer that Connor was about to drink and gulped it down with one chug - much to Connor's irritated protests, of course. Wiping his slick lips with the back of his hand as he ever-so-politely handed his twin back the empty can, Murphy then turned on his heel, walked purposely towards the couch, and plopped his arse down. "Well, fuck me!"

Nodding his head towards Lita's form, Da couldn't help but rejoin unabashedly with, "_She _can prolly 'elp ye with tha'." He threw the bewildered Lita a wink before making his grand exit and disappearing into another room.

Clearing his throat amidst the uncomfortable silence that followed, Connor shifted his eyes and stated, "I'll be restin' in me room if anythin'."

As she eyed the blonde MacManus as he retreated into his adjacent bedroom, Lita hesitantly joined Murphy upon the couch. Studying his expression, she concluded that it was inscrutable, clouded with convoluted emotions. Entwining her fingers with his, Lita stated, looking in his eyes searchingly, "You're angry, aren't you?"

With a curt shake of his head, the dark-haired Irishman replied with, "Nah, I'm not. It's just…" he heaved out a ragged exhale, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear, "…ye should've told me. Ye should've told me from tha very moment tha' this ludicrous idea popped inta yer 'ead!"

She forced a smile. "It wouldn't have been as much fun, now would it?"

"Dammit, Lita!" Murphy suddenly exclaimed in frustration, abruptly cupping her face in between the palms of his hands. Disregarding the fact that he had startled her, he continued with, "This isn't a _game _alright? Wha' if somethin' went wrong an' somethin' 'appened ta me brother or me father, huh?" His face crinkled with heartfelt emotion as he pressed his forehead upon hers, "Wha' if somethin' 'appened ta _ye_?"

Lita could only remain silent through Murphy's barrage of questions. Thinking back to the first moment her plan was conceived, she realized that she really had not taken into account her own safety. All she could think about was proving to Murphy that she had absolutely nothing to do with his abduction. Her only goal was to stop her brother's madness and release the Saint from unjust captivity. Really, what value did _her _life hold now, now that she knew that everything that she had ever believed in was a lie? Most of what she owned was made by spilling innocent blood! The people that surrounded her kill, murder, and assassinate for their own personal gain. By associating with them, wasn't _she_ indirectly spilling innocent blood?

Slightly pulling away from his grasp, Lita peered into Murphy's orbs alternately. "Look, it's in the past, and we can't change it." Straightening her spine, she reached out for the first-aid kit that Da had left on the table. "Just be thankful that everyone in this apartment made it out alive."

As much as he would've liked to, Murphy couldn't contest her latter statements. What he couldn't ignore so easily, however, were the feelings that she stirred within him. Thinking back to only a few hours prior, he had felt genuine madness course through his veins when he had witnessed Lita almost being raped. He couldn't deny the fainting sensation that had gripped him while he had watched, with sheer terror, Connor placing a loaded gun underneath her chin. His memories then regressed further to the moments of kindness that she had exhibited while he was in captivity, symbolizing the lone beacon of hope that he had left in this world. And, at this very moment, she was again showing her kinder side to him, shedding off all the layers of adamantine anger and brazen wit as she gently stroked the side of his face with dampened gauze.

Murphy couldn't take it any longer. With a curt exhale, he leaned forward, capturing her slightly parted lips in an ardent kiss. Impassioned by her entire being, he placed butterfly kisses around her nose, cheeks, and neck before resting his lips upon hers once more. As Lita mindlessly released the first-aid objects from her hands, she wrapped her arms around Murphy's smooth neck, captivated by his closeness. Kissing the Saint with the same, intense urgency, she feverishly pressed her body against his. Unfamiliar emotions swept through her, and her actions seemed almost mechanical as her hands disappeared underneath Murphy's shirt. In an instant, she managed to remove his clothing and began to kiss, bite, and lick his taut chest. Though, when she heard Murphy hiss in pain stead of pleasure, she immediately pulled back, eyes tracing his face and torso.

Black and blue marks adorned Murphy's body. His neck and partially his face sported like bruises. Though he wasn't bleeding, Lita could tell that some of his cuts were fresh and could open once again with harsh movement. With fatigue clouding over her, realizing Murphy's state was the straw that broke the camel's back. With a trembling lip, Lita released all of the emotions that she had been withholding and allowed silent tears to cascade down her cheeks and freefall down her chin.

Seeing this, Murphy pulled her in a tight embrace. He held her firmly and made no indication that he was in pain. He felt so much emotion for this woman that he never wanted to release her from his arms. Then, for many moments, they rested their chins on each other's shoulders, merely reveling in the feeling of each other's touch and presence.

The light clearing of a throat managed to break their deep trance. Inclining their heads in unison, they perceived Il Duce attempting to appear as unobtrusive as possible. "I do apologize fer interruptin', but…Lita, may I 'ave a word?"

Eyes momentarily landing upon Murphy as she slowly stood, she replied almost inaudibly, "Alright."

Murphy remained silent, though his orbs continually followed Lita's form as she disappeared with his father.

Trailing behind the senior MacManus as they headed into the kitchen, Lita watched the old Irishman curiously and said nothing. Feeling her discomfort, Da decided to jump the queue and get straight to the point. "I know 'ow 'ard it is ta be in me presence, Lita," he began, wholly capturing her attention, "…especially if ye don't 'ave a weapon in yer 'and." Leaning on the basin counter while he clasped his arms in front of him, he continued, "But I just 'ave ta…_thank _ye fer wha' ye've done…fer 'elpin' us save me son's life." He met her stare. "I must admit tha' a' first I thought ye were only settin' us up, but in tha end, I thought tha' a leap o' faith was in order."

It was then that Lita eyed the outstretched hand that the Saint held out firmly in front of her…

…and spotted the silencer that was contained within it.

"If ye still garner a lot o' 'atred towards me, child, I can completely understand tha'." He took another step forward, slightly lifting his arm. "Which is why I'm givin' ye tha chance ta do this."

"The fuck?" Lita knew _exactly _what the senior Saint was implying. What perplexed her was _why _he was doing this. Did he believe it to be a noble act?

Or was it merely an exchange for his son's life?

While Lita silently contemplated, Il Duce did not yield for a moment. He remained stalk still in front of her, arm outstretched, as he continued to offer the weapon. Unflinching, Lita finally snatched the weapon from his grasp in one swift motion. In a lightning move, she expertly cocked the gun with a flick of her wrist and then pointed it firmly upon Il Duce's forehead.

"Whenever yer ready, love." The Irishman stated in a relaxed tone, exhibiting no sign of fear or indication of fight.

The weapon seemed weightless within her hand. Lita traced the trigger with her index finger as the side of her lip twitched into a snarl. It seemed as though they stood as such, frozen, for hours. What would Murphy think if he walked in on this? And what the fuck would she do afterwards?

Lita had hesitated, but she knew that she did not have to deliberate her options any further. Flicking the gun nonchalantly upon the ground, she stated with much pride lining her tone, "I may be an assassin, old man, but I ain't a fuckin' murderer." Crossing her arms in front of her, she inclined her head, "I wouldn't pull that trigger on you, at point blank, if you weren't fighting for your life."

As she proclaimed this, Il Duce abruptly lifted a hand. While not knowing what that motion exactly meant, it was then that Lita realized that Il Duce's gaze was not upon her, but behind her. Slowly turning her head, she was just in time to see Connor slightly lowering his gun, his chest heaving up and down in visible upset. She had no idea when he had stepped into the room, but from the confused expression upon his countenance, she knew he hadn't walked in early enough in the conversation. Amidst the deafening silence, she managed to pipe up, "Thought you didn't kill women?"

"No, we don't," Connor murmured through tight lips as he strode to his father's side, "but we never said anythin' 'bout maimin' 'em. _Especially _if they're tryin' ta kill one o' us." The blonde Irishman let out a scoff before walking protectively in front of his father. "First ye 'elp us save me brother. Now yer tryin' ta kill me own father in 'is own home." Narrowing his eyes, he drilled a finger upon his forehead. "Are ye fucked in tha 'ead or somethin'?"

"Enough, Connor." Sheer authority lined Il Duce's voice. Stepping in between them as though stopping an ensuing fight, he quickly admitted, "I lent 'er me gun ta give 'er a chance ta make a choice…"

Wrinkling her brows in puzzlement at this statement, Lita repeated, "_Choice_?"

"If ye thought twice 'bout pullin' tha trigger in tha first place, then it's apparent tha' ye've changed, Lita. Yer initial purpose – or desire – ta kill me 'as been," Da paused, circling his hands as he searched for the proper term, "…_altered_. Ye see, love, ye aren't as cold-blooded as ye portray yerself ta be." He even smirked at this point, "In fact, ye have more in common with us Saints than ye may think."

Raising a brow, Connor mumbled under his breath, "Not when it comes ta sanity, I reckon…"

Although Lita managed to throw the blonde Saint an icy glare, Il Duce swiftly captured her attention once more. Again, he held out his hand – this time, it was empty. Now, his outstretched hand symbolized something that she surprisingly desired: not revenge, but a _truce_.

But could she really shake the hand of the man who murdered her father, despite the fact that he was not the innocent man that she had once believed him to be?

_Il Duce has saved innocent peoples' lives by doing what he does. And you know, deep down inside, that this man would never spill innocent blood._

Lita studied the hand that was firmly held out in front of her for another moment. Then, finally reaching out for it, she wrapped her delicate fingers upon Da's rough, calloused ones. With a firm shake, she had not only exhibited her desire for peace, but she had also exhibited a sign of forgiveness.

Placing the palm of his free hand upon her cheek, Il Duce proclaimed, "Consider yerself beatified."

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**A/N: Give me inspiration!! lol Till next time, readers! xx IFHD**


	15. Gratitude

**A/N****: Hey all! My old laptop was finally fixed, so I have most of my files back. Luckily, "In His Eyes" is one of them! I'm majorly stoked. But yeah, here's another chapter for you. It's been so long since I've updated this story, huh? Thanks to those who reviewed and continually support this story. Hope you enjoy this next installment! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 15: Gratitude**

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"_**Falling Slowly"**_

_**By: Glen Hansard**_

_I don't know you  
But I want you  
All the more for that  
Words fall through me  
And always fool me  
And I can't react  
And games that never amount  
To more than they're meant  
Will play themselves out_

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
We've still got time  
Raise your hopeful voice _

_You have a choice  
You've made it now_

_Falling slowly_

_Eyes that know me  
And I can't go back  
Moods that take me and erase me  
And I'm painted black  
You have suffered enough  
And warred with yourself  
It's time that you won_

_Falling slowly _

_Sing your melody  
I'll sing along_

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Feeling a bit lightheaded as a result of what had just transpired with Il Duce and Connor, Lita mindlessly wandered to the living room. The dimly-lit space was completely empty. Slightly furrowing her brows in question and curiosity, she peered into the distant hallways and adjacent rooms, though ultimately finding them all empty as well.

No sign of Murphy anywhere.

Eyes then landing upon the room behind her, which, she bemusedly reminded herself, was her former area of captivity, Lita reckoned that it was the most plausible place for the Saint to be.

Each step that she took, which brought her closer to his bedroom, was simultaneously familiar and strange. Recollections of her former plight and thoughts of her current state violently collided within her; this only served to confuse her even more with regards to what the future would bring. Had she really followed the right path? Has she begun to sever her ties with the Triads and, most importantly, her own brother? Maybe Connor _was _right: she had probably gone completely mental. Aye, that was the only explanation: insanity. Or had some other ailment overtaken her? Was there another explanation to her haphazard ways, her infirmness of character as of late? Yes, there _must _be something else…

Lita's instincts had never failed to serve her well, and this case proved no different. As she stood between the doorway of the bedroom, Murphy appeared directly in front of her, entirely unclad, his backside facing her. With a damp towel in hand, the Saint continued to languidly dry himself off, seemingly oblivious to her presence. He heaved a heavy sigh, as though he were releasing all the tension that this entire ordeal had brought upon him. Although she knew that being there, unannounced, was _more than_ rude – especially under _these _circumstances – Lita could not manage to rip her eyes away from the Saint's body.

Murphy's sapphire orbs then connected with Lita's shadowy form through the small mirror at his side. Slowly turning his head around to face her, he made a move to cover himself and wrapped the towel around his trim waist. He appeared neither distraught nor embarrassed even at the slightest. On the contrary, he was perfectly calm and collected, eyes expressing curiosity more than anything.

Although Lita continued to feel drawn to the dark-haired Irishman, she finally willed her eyes to look away. Concentrating on the bare floor in between her feet, she mumbled with a wince, "Sorry. Should've knocked." When the Saint failed to reply, she continued awkwardly, "Look, there must be a lot of things going through your head right now…as there should be. A lot of unanswered questions and…shit like that. I, uh…" her eyes flickered upwards, gaze crashing with blazing sapphires amidst the moon-lit room, "Jesus fuckin' Christ, I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know what I'm _gonna _do! I just thought that…"

"Lord's fuckin' name." Murphy chided lightly, reciting one of his Ma's favourite lines. With light footsteps upon creaking floorboards, he leisurely enclosed the space between them, never breaking his blistering stare. "Did ye really plan all o' tha'?" His slick lips travelled closer and closer to the side of her neck as his arms coiled around the small of her waist. Noticing that she did not move an inch and no longer able to take her silence, he reiterated in a whisper, warm breath tickling her face, "Did ye?"

Lita could barely reply as his burning lips made contact with her delicate skin. "Yes."

"An' why would ye risk so much," His lips trailed down her neck and began to graze her exposed chest, "_betray_ yer own people," He then pressed his body upon hers and, in effect, securely pinned her upon the wall, "…to save me life?"

"Because…" Both the intensity of Murphy's contact as well as that of the question made it almost impossible for Lita to respond. With a ragged intake of breath, she tried again weakly, "Because I…"

When she felt Murphy's hand linger in between her thighs, Lita began to pull away completely. Overwhelmed by all of the conflicting emotions within her, she thought to make a run for it all: from this room, her feelings…from Murphy.

She didn't get far.

In a move that elicited a sharp gasp from her mouth, Murphy took the sides of Lita's arms and whirled her about to face him. As he pinned her upon the wall once more, he pressed himself against her so closely that the lengths of their bodies were fully touching.

The Saint knew that he could not suppress his yearning for this woman any longer. What had merely begun as a passing longing had steadily grown into feverish infatuation. Murphy's manhood ached at the thought of Lita's mere presence, and it ached even more at the remembrance of his 'unfinished business' with her just a few nights prior. Oh, how he wanted her so, so fuckin' badly – and it irritated him that he couldn't get on with, if he could word it any more bluntly, _ravaging _her. Her every movement, every sound, drove him further into what was closer to insanity than bliss. Her scent, her breath, and the warmth of her body steadily reeled him in, intoxicated him to the point of stupor…made him entirely _addicted_. He had fought it for so long: the temptation, the tortuous attraction that he felt for her; the utter need to be with her, _inside _her. It was a fucking match made in hell, and Murphy knew this all too well. Though, his attraction for this woman wasn't merely physical. In the back of his head and in the core of his heart, Murphy knew that he did genuinely care about her.

Murphy ensued to place butterfly kisses upon Lita's back, shoulders and nape. As he raked his fingers through her mussed hair, he utilized his other hand to grab an object from his closet. After a few passing moments, Lita furrowed her brows at the sound of clinking and curiously twisted her head around to observe what Murphy was doing. Before she could utter a word, she felt something cool clamp upon her left wrist.

"Handcuffs?" Her voice raised in a mixture of surprise and a bit of panic. "Murphy, what are you doing?"

She could still feel his warm, throbbing need even through the layers of their clothing as he continued to freely press himself against her. As he flicked her ear with his moist tongue, Murphy murmured, "Just remember tha' yer me captive now, love."

Lita's eyes instantly widened. "Murphy, I don't…"

Scooping her up and above his shoulders, it only took Murphy a couple of long strides before he reached the foot of his bed. Laying her gently upon the mattress, he ensued to mount her, thighs controlling her writhing body beneath. Managing to grasp her arm, he looped the free end of the handcuffs around the winding metal pipes that made up the bed headboard. Then, taking her free hand, he made her captivity complete by securing the last cuff on her other wrist.

Now, she was ready.

And the Saint prayed to the heavens that they wouldn't once again be rudely interrupted.

Murphy could see that he had Lita mesmerized. The chocolate-brown eyes which had once glared at him with complete disdain now fell upon him in a much more different, rather opposite, state; her orbs were no longer clouded in confusion, but were now tainted with sheer passion and lust. He then heard her whimper his name in a ragged exhale; what Murphy was unsure of, however, was what she implied.

Murphy merely threw her a sly smirk, apparently content with the torture that he was knowingly inflicting upon her. Aye, he's had many lovers in the past, but there was just something _different _about this particular woman below him. He wanted her to ache for him, scream his name, and treasure every single moment of intimate contact with him. Most alarming of all, he wanted her to _beg_ – for him to continue or to stop, he wasn't so sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he was not going to halt his ministrations anytime soon.

Apocalypse had to occur for him to do so.

Lita quivered as Murphy began to lazily unbutton her blouse. Eyes afire, the Saint momentarily raised his head to meet her eyes, though was unable to be distracted from his current task. Studying every inch of her exposed, warm skin, Murphy eagerly unclasped her bra and pushed it aside. Teasingly, he rubbed his length upon her womanhood as his hands took a hold of her exposed breasts. The feeling of her writhing below him elicited a low groan from his throat. As he enveloped her mouth with his, he heard her moan into his lips, which only succeeded to fuel the fire within him even more.

Releasing her breasts momentarily, he began to work on the button of her jeans. Almost ripping her pants from her body, he maneuvered himself over her as he discarded the unwanted clothing behind his shoulder. As he disrobed, all Murphy could hear was their shallow panting; what he inevitably desired to hear was her cries of pleasure.

Lita couldn't deny that she desperately ached for the Saint – and she knew that this wasn't the first time that that feeling coursed through her. Even the mere contact of Murphy's skin upon hers was enough to make her shudder, to allow an uncontrollable moan to escape her pursed lips. She didn't struggle as he mounted her once more, his thighs on either side of her hips. Disregarding the tightened clamp of the cuffs upon her wrists, Lita licked her lips in expectancy, feeling uncontrollable shivers of pleasure rip through her entire body.

Cupping her tender breasts in his calloused hands, he gently kneaded them, periodically nipping and suckling at her hardened nipples. His tongue trailed lower, languidly tracing the entire length of her body, until he reached her fiery core. As he began to teasingly lick and suck at her sensitive nub, her hips automatically arched, a cry freely escaping from her lips. As his hands busily kneaded her now swollen breasts, his tongue delved even deeper into her womanhood in a rhythmic fashion, causing her to whimper in sheer ecstasy.

Every inch of her body was on fire, the tingling sensation hitting her body like a maelstrom. Lita's head lolled back, burying itself upon the white, feathered pillow below. Biting her bottom lip, she wanted so much to rake her fingers upon Murphy's taut shoulders as he continued his assault upon her senses. The slightest contact evoked waves of pleasure, which then coursed through her entire form. Murphy's warm breath, probing tongue, and curious fingers were almost too much.

"Let me go," she whimpered breathlessly under his control, "Please."

Murphy momentarily paused to breathe out, "Uh-uh, love." Tracing her swollen lips with the backs of his fingers, he proclaimed, "I'm not through wid ye yet."

Murphy's tongue and fingers delved into her so suddenly, so expertly, that Lita could no longer contain her shouts nor quell the raging spasms that ripped through her body. Shutting her eyes, she reveled in the feelings that the Irishman aroused within her as she squirmed, twisted and melted beneath him. She felt Murphy smile, though he uttered nothing of comprehension and continued to greedily taste her. "Oh…ah, Murphy…please," She shut her eyes and bit her bottom lip so hard that it hurt. It became progressively difficult to form coherent thoughts or words as a whirlwind of sensations coursed through her. "Please, let me touch you…"

In response, Murphy looked up at her with a sly smirk. "Remember when _ye _wouldn't let _me _go?" Teasingly dragging his manhood upon her opening as he advanced upon her body, he admitted, nipping at her lips, "Ye tortured tha 'ell outta me, love!"

"That…was…" Lita stuttered, hips bucking upwards upon Murphy's. When she felt his fingers position themselves in between them, she squealed before she let out a husky, "…different!"

"Dunno if it was different," Murphy could barely reply as he closed his eyes and bucked his hips back, "But I sure as 'ell know tha' I'm enoyin' 'avin' me way wid ye tonight."

It was then that, in a fluid motion, Murphy thrust into her.

Lita let out a cry and then bit her bottom lip as she whimpered. The pain began to ebb away as Murphy began to steadily rock above her, his movements cautious and calculating. Lita pulled at the cuffs, hands desperately attempting to feel even an inch of the Irishman. It took every ounce of self control not to berate the dark-haired MacManus then and there, but the tension that was quickly building inside of her erased all form of rational thought in her head.

However, that tension didn't succeed in quelling her voice.

As she screamed profanities left and right, Murphy just couldn't help but comment, "Ye…sure 'ave…a dirty…mouth…"

Head rolling back, Lita sputtered in reply, "Shut up…and…fuck me…harder!"

A tickle of laughter passed through Murphy's throat at her 'commands', as it were, but the Irishman was so impassioned and was steadily nearing his release that he couldn't help but comply. With his hands upon her hips, he greatly increased his rhythm, his thrusts now wild, yet automatic. A succession of grunts and groans fell from Murphy's lips, his eyes tightly shut at the numbing pleasure growing within of him. Entwining his fingers with Lita's, he hovered over her as he continued his rapid movements, reveling in the feeling of her constricting around him and matching his every thrust. With laboured gasps, they moved in unison, expelling the fervent emotions that they felt for one another.

They felt their release almost instantly, both crying out to the heavens. Even though Murphy removed himself from Lita, he continued to stroke her core, inducing more shudders to travel within her body. As their laboured gasps lessened and the feeling of euphoria overtook them, the Irishman broke the silence first. "I rather like kinky sex."

Breathlessly, Lita retorted with narrowed eyes, "It was at my fuckin' expense, thank you very much!" When Murphy cuddled up beside her and mindlessly fondled her breasts, her tone audibly softened as she continued, "I'd hit you – if I could – for this terrible idea of yours." As she took a sweeping gaze of the Saint's exposed body, she murmured, "Now let me go so I can fuckin' hold you properly!"

"Can't." Murphy replied simply, lips tracing her jaw. "Lost tha keys."

"Murphy!"

And with that, amidst a sea of Lita's profanity, Murphy gleefully struggled away from his irate lover, waiting a good half hour before finally retrieving the keys and releasing her.

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**A/N:**** Will Murphy and Lita get their happy ending? Till next time! xx IFHD**


	16. Fighting Irish

**A/N: Hey everyone! I know it's been more than 2 years since I've updated. But I found the time to update this one again. As with my other BDS fic, "Even in Heaven II: Saints' Scourge," I have no promises to continue this story, but just wanted to update since it's been so long and I just didn't want to keep you all hanging! Thank you for all of your support over the years. I love all the reviews! Keeps me writing. Enjoy this one! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 16: Fighting Irish**

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"_**Devil"**_

_**By: Staind**_

_She sits alone again and tries her best not to pretend that _

_all she used to live for was the love that wasn't there  
And every time she needs to do the things that she believes will fill the void  
inside of her cause he was never there_

_And she says,  
"I swear I'm not the devil  
though you think I am.  
I swear I'm not the devil."  
And she says,  
"I swear I'm not the devil  
Though you think I am.  
I swear I'm not the devil."_

_He tries to sleep again and wonders when the pain will end the cuts they made run deeper than his cracking outer shell  
He looks with tired eyes at all the people hypnotized and wonders what can save him from a self-created hell_

_I always fail to see the little things in front of me the things that mean so much to you, a way to let you know_

_That I appreciate the way you always tolerate but sometimes when I medicate  
frustration in you shows me how you feel._

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Lita awoke to what she believed was the growling of a bear. With a start, she sat up from the bed, flinging the cover from her form in a motion of panic. Managing to calm her rapidly-beating heart and somewhat come to her senses after a few moments, she fought through her disorientation and recognized that she was, in fact, in Murphy's room. After another rumble erupted from her side, she realized that the 'call of the wild' that had so rudely roused her from her dreams was coming from none other than Murphy 'Snoreface' MacManus himself.

Capturing his nose in between her dainty fingers, she gave it a little pinch as she mused, "Quite sexy, MacManus. You never cease to turn me on."

The Saint wrinkled his nose in displeasure and replied with another unconscious grumble.

"Oh, for the love of…" With a grunt, Lita gave Murphy a playful shove. However, she somehow miscalculated her own strength and managed to cause the Irishman to roll from the bed…

…and, in all his bare glory, fall flat on this stomach on the floor with a violent thud.

She instantly winced and bit her bottom lip. "Shit!" Wide-eyed, Lita peeked over the edge of the bed, surveying the damage that she had caused.

_Well __I__'__ll __be __damned_, she thought to herself. Somehow, the Irishman remained fast asleep. Murphy did, however, groan with displeasure at the loss of warmth. In a zombie-like fashion, he absentmindedly felt for the covers around him. He simultaneously frowned and shivered when he found no sign of them. Then, finally finding the tip of the blanket from the edge of the bed, he repeatedly pulled at it with a murmur and _somehow_ managed to roll himself inside the fleece. He proceeded to lie on the ground contentedly, akin to a toasty cinnamon bun. After only a few more moments, he retained his deep sleep and ensued to snore in a fashion that would make dinosaurs proud.

"I guess no sex in the mornings, ol' chap?" Lita quipped with a smile of adoration. After she took another moment to observe the Tyrannosaurus Rex below her, her eyes descended towards the nightstand beside the bed. Seeing that the digital clock read the ungodly hour of 7:00 am, she reckoned that neither of the other two MacManuses would also be up. Heaving out another sigh and giving her body a little stretch, Lita then stood and loosely wrapped another blanket around her body. Kissing the sleeping dinosaur on the cheek, she quickly grabbed some garments from the heap on the ground and mindlessly placed them on. Parched, she resolved to grab a quick drink from the kitchen before hopping into the shower.

As she made her way through the corridors of the MacManus apartment, her mind flashed through memories of the passionate night that had just passed. Something had definitely changed within her in a matter of a few hours – in a matter of a few _moments_, even. She felt…_content_…for once in her life.

Her hypothesis about neither of the other two MacManuses being up was not so accurate, however. Just as she casually strolled into the kitchen, Lita spotted Connor in the adjacent living room, plopped down on the couch, clad in jeans and a simple tank top, and blankly watching television. He looked as though he hadn't received a decent night's sleep: his spiked hair was even more disheveled than usual; his eyes bloodshot; and his skin pale. Stopping in her tracks, Lita inwardly cursed to herself, realizing just how _unpresentable_ she must have looked at that moment. As she whirled around on her heels and resolved to briskly walk back towards Murphy's room in retreat, she heard Connor call out after her:

"Fun night?"

Twisting her head back to meet his glare, she realized that he did not look pleased at all. In fact, he seemed absolutely _livid_. Seeing his steel-blue eyes scrutinizing her from top to bottom, it was obvious that the blonde Saint knew _exactly_ what had transpired between her and his brother the previous night. Turning off the television and flicking the remote control to his side, all forgotten, Connor merely eyed her and patiently awaited her response. When Lita remained silent and stone-faced, he then stood and sauntered to her side. Crossing his arms in front of him, he stated bluntly and quite inappropriately, "Didn't know ye were sleepin' wid me brother."

Lita did not miss the iciness in his controlled tone. Disregarding the growing tension that mercilessly coiled itself around them, she confidently stepped towards the tall Irishman and, without hesitation, met his harsh gaze with equal measure. Unflinching, she retorted with, "Is there a problem with that?"

Connor let out a sardonic laugh as he began to massage his temples with his thumb and index finger. "I would think tha' it'd be apparent tha' there is." Fiery eyes locking into hers, he snarled, jaw clenched, "Ye were right 'bout tha whole kidnappin' thing, an' yer plan worked…but we _still_ don't know who ye really are and yer intentions. Not ta mention yer tryin' ta kill us MacManuses, for Chrissake!"

"Let bygones be bygones. Your father and brother obviously have." Lita momentarily tilted her head to the side, almost flirtatiously, before whirling on her heel once more and turning her back on the Saint. "And you want to get to know me even more, is that it?" When he didn't reply, she decided to try the Saint's patience even more, continuing to poke at him with, "Well, what's the fuckin' matter, Mick? Are you just pissed off because I fucked your brother and not you?"

As the latter statement escaped her lips, something had instantaneously changed within Connor's eyes. He didn't reply, though Lita saw his clenching jaw and the violent rage erupting in his sapphire orbs.

After a few moments of a standstill, Connor could not react calmly any longer. Finding his self control waning, he strode purposely to Lita's side and roughly gripped her upper arm. Literally breathing down her neck in sheer upset, the Irishman growled, "Don't ye fuckin' play wid 'im, ye 'ear me, woman?" He gave her a shake for good measure, looking to drill his message within her head. "Me threats aren't always empty. Don't take me mercy for weakness, love, 'cause they ain't tha same."

Albeit futile, she continuously pushed at his adamantine chest to relieve his hold. Knitting her brows and feeling the anger rise within her being, Lita shot back with, "And what makes you think that I'd play with him, huh? You don't _know_ me, MacManus – you admitted it yourself!"

Connor took her other arm in hand and pushed her roughly upon the kitchen wall. He spat coldly, baring teeth, "Ye betrayed yer own _brother_, yer own _family_. Wha' other evidence do I need, huh?" From the moment those words fell from Connor's lips, he immediately regretted them. Why the fuck was he acting in such an abrasive manner? Deep down inside, the Irishman knew the answer, the truth. His defenses were overtly heightened for a different reason: convoluted emotions.

Lita pretended that Connor's latter statements didn't cut right through her. Finding that she had no idea how to verbally defend herself after what he had just so easily spat upon her face, she muttered in an almost appeasing tone, "The fuck's gotten into you? One moment, you're congratulating me on a job well done. The next, you're ripping my fucking head off!" She finally managed to shove him away from her form. "Maybe it's _you_ who's the fuckin' headcase!"

In response, Connor turned his head dismissively away from her, jaw tight. "No matter what me brother or me Da feel about ye, ye ain't a guest in this house, Triad. Remember tha'."

As the lump that had formed within Lita's throat grew larger, she could only speechlessly watch as the Saint stalked away from her form. Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she observed Connor kicking his duffel bag from underneath the coffee table to expose it. Almost ripping it open, he ensued to empty out its contents in front of him. Desert Eagles, MAC-10s, and other weapons were then placed at his side. Drawn to his activity, Lita sputtered with furrowed brows, "W-what are you doing?"

"Wha' do ye think I'm doin'?" Connor didn't bother to look up at her and merely continued his current task. "I'm preparin' fer yer beloved brother's retribution."

She narrowed her eyes. "The fuck?"

Connor stopped for a moment and finally caught her glare. "Ye really think tha' there wouldn't be any consequences ta all o' this? We know yer brother's kind. He doesn't give a fuck about how many men he loses." He easily cocked the Desert Eagle and set it aside. Onto the next weapon. "But if it's his pride that's wounded, he's bound ta avenge tha' sooner or later. Who knows wha' he 'as up his sleeve?" Letting out a snort, he muttered, "An' now tha' we 'ave his _dear_ sister as hostage…"

Lita didn't know _what_ to think. She knew that her plan of kidnap and hostage would come with a shitload of consequences, but she never envisioned that a fucking _battle_ would ensue this soon._ What __did __you__ think __would __happen,__ you__ idiot?__ That __your __brother __will __let__ the __Saints __go, __scot-free,__ with__ you __as__ their __hostage?_ She didn't fucking think ahead, that was the problem! She was just so preoccupied with getting Murphy the fuck out of her brother's lair that she completely overlooked what she would exactly do after the plan was carried out. Feeling helplessness, she blurted, "We had a fucking deal, MacManus! You have your brother. Now leave mine the fuck alone!"

"I ain't goin' after 'im, love, 'cause there's no need ta." Connor casually sauntered across the room to stand before her. Peering down towards her, he murmured, "_He__'__ll_ come fer _ye_. All we gotta do is wait."

Fuck.

She knew he was right.

Nevertheless, she stated with a tilt of her chin, "I can't let you hurt my brother. Like I said, after this arrangement's been taken care of, you'll have to go through me to get to him." She stepped up to him fearlessly, straightening her spine in challenge. "And now that the arrangement's been successfully completed…"

"Wha', _yer_ gonna stop me?" Connor let out a dismissive snort as he gave her an once-over. "And _now_ ye decide ta show a bit o' loyalty ta yer brother?"

Although Lita remained silent for a moment, her inactivity did not last long. Her next action caught Connor completely off-guard. With a full swing of her arm, Lita sent her clenched fists upon the left side of Connor's face. The blonde Irishman grunted as his neck violently snapped to the side. Using his moment of lessened defenses, Lita gripped the collar of his beater, pulled him towards her, and sent another blow to his abdomen. Feeling her knuckles crack at the impact, she let out a cry of pain. Meanwhile, Connor doubled over, though made no move to retaliate.

Though, just as Lita was about to throw _another _punch – this time strategically aimed at his neck – Connor whirled away from her in evasion. "Tha' wasn't very nice, now was it?" He spat in an icy tone, quickly recovering from her attacks. As he stood behind her, he pulled at the back of her shirt and ensued to coil his taut arm around her neck in an effort to contain her.

"Oi!"

Lita could hear Murphy's panicked footsteps come from behind her. As she struggled to see what was transpiring, she then felt herself being released from the chokehold. Greedily gasping for breath, she took a few steps forward before whirling around to face the MacManus twins. The brothers glared at one another, their open stances identical.

Murphy's orbs were afire with rage. He was unable to contain his emotions as he wrathfully shoved his twin and pinned him upon the back of the front door. With a snarl, he growled, "The fuck are ye hurtin' 'er fer, eh?" He struggled with the blonde Saint for a while, though managed to keep a hold of him in the end. Tightening his grip on Connor's shirt, he snapped, "The fuck's wrong wid ye, Con? 'ave ye completely lost it?"

"Get off me!" Connor grunted with a jerk of his body; though, his anger was clearly directed to Lita. With a circle of his hand, he explained, "This _– __lady__ – _swung at me first. Seems as though she can't 'andle tha truth, Murph." Finally regaining his collected composure, Connor straightened out his clothing and stepped away from Murphy. Contemptuous eyes landing upon Lita, he snarled without hesitation, "Get 'er outta 'ere, Murph. She'll just cause us more trouble, and it ain't fuckin' worth it." Fixating his attention once more on his duffel back, Connor added, without turning around, "We still don't even know if all o' this is just a grand set-up."

"Yer talkin' a load o' fuckin' bollocks, Con!" Murphy shot, though couldn't help the feeling of being torn. Looking for aid, his eyes met Lita's gaze. "She 'elped ye an' Da rescue me widout 'avin' any connection ta 'er brother or 'is men. Ye _know_tha' she can be trusted."

"Sleepin' wid someone doesn't make 'em automatically trustworthy, Murph."

At Connor's snide remark, Lita narrowed her eyes, enraged, and made a move towards him once more. Murphy caught her in his arms almost instantaneously, holding her back and hushing her in an effort to appease her. She automatically attempted to push Murphy away, eyes, mind and body all intent on their target. Though, the Saint clearly overpowered her, and he somewhat lifted her off the ground in order to separate her from his twin. "Ye know tha' was uncalled fer, Con," he proclaimed over his shoulder, able to keep his calm and even tone.

Connor let out a scoff. "Ye _really _need ta start thinkin' wid yer _brain_, Murph, an' not just yer _'__ead_."

Lita could see the expression instantaneously change upon Murphy's countenance. Taking a deep breath, the dark-haired Irishman loosened his hold upon her and ordered, "Go ta me room, Lita."

Orbs roaming his face, she retorted with, "What am I, five?"

Murphy threw her a pleading look, clenching his jaw as he repeated more firmly, "Go on. I'll deal wid this."

Unflinching, Connor strode to his twin's side before handing him the duffel bag. Barely heeding the daggers that Lita stared at him, he managed to say in a controlled tone, "Yer gonna 'ave ta deal wid _'__er _brother b'fore ye deal wid yer own. So arm yerself, Murph. It won't be long 'till Luis an' 'is men find us."

Murphy unsurely eyed his brother's outstretched arm and the bag that he held in his hand. Feeling Lita's firm grip upon his arm, he met her stare with equal measure as she declared, "It was you for my brother, Murphy. Leave him the fuck alone, or I swear to you…"

Unbelieving of what Lita had just imparted to him, his gaze fixated upon his twin in search of an answer.

"Tha' may 'ave been tha deal, Murph, but ye _know_ tha' 'e's gonna come fer 'er, sooner or later, an' will be intent on blowin' our 'eads off in the process." Connor pushed the bag firmly upon Murphy's chest, continuing to insist. "So are ye just gonna stand there an' allow bullets ta rip through ye or actually defend yerself?"

Eyes landing upon Lita and his twin alternately, Murphy blurted out after a few moments, "I need a fuckin' cigarette." Then, pushing past them, he stalked through the front door and promptly slammed it behind him.

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**A/N: Aww, Murphy! What'd you all think? =) Till next time! xx IFHD**


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